The Oblivious Wizard and the Long-Suffering Mob Boss
by gomenasai-for-everything
Summary: Harry refuses to work for Marcone one too many times, and so the mob boss uses coercion upon meeting Harry at the art gala. Harry cooperates to get the Shroud of Turin, but what he doesn't know is that Marcone wants him for far more than magic, and will certainly be doing all he can to trip him into bed. Set during Death Masks, but I cut most of the plot out, even though I love it.


A/N So… I uh, I just read the Dresden Files, and, excuse me for a moment, but OH MY GOD HARRY OH MY GOD JOHN OH MY GOD SO HOT YES I'M A FANGIRL SO SUE ME. I'm sorry for that, but I really can't help it, my friends. I can't. But… for those of you who didn't run away at that outburst, here's a fic for those two, because, once again, I can't help it. Oh, and P.S., this takes place during the time of Death Masks, but pretty much without any of the plot. All I'm actually taking and using is Marcone's purchase of the Shroud of Turin. P.P.S, I'm using italics for Latin, and there are translations for any Italian I use at the bottom of the page. Sorry for any errors in the Italian, and anyone that actually speaks the language can feel free to correct it.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files.

* * *

Gentleman Johnny Marcone almost always has information I can use, and I hate it, since that means consistent visits to the mobster's home, and every trip I make here adds more weight to the rumor that I'm in his pocket. That pisses me off. I am damn well not Marcone's wizard! I am my own wizard, or, as Murphy would probably say, I belong to whoever happens to be paying my rent that month. Which reminds me, I'm back two months, the landlord isn't exactly happy with me, and the only case I've got is the one I'm here for now. It's something about a Lycanthrope street gang, not the Street Wolves, but a new one, one that's been noted for being even more violent, and I just know Marcone's got to know something. It's a street gang, he knows at least a little about all of the street gangs, especially new ones! I give a deep sigh and walk towards the gate that surrounds the house, big and dark and menacing, and looked at the two guards he had posted.

I can't say I recognize either of them, but they're both at least twice my weight and one of them could even compete with me in the height department, which always unnerves me a little. They've each got a gun on their back, and probably another tucked away in their jackets, but I figured I didn't have too much to worry about. Most of Marcone's men have seen me in action, know what I can do, so I just put on my best pretentious wizard smile and walked up to them fearlessly. They both kept their eyes firmly on my throat, and I felt a little bit of a smirk slip into my smile. Yes, these two definitely knew who I was.

"What do you want, Mr. Dresden?" the slightly smaller of the two asked, a little bit of a sneer in his voice.

"I need to talk to John," I said, emphasizing my use of their boss' first name since I felt a little spiteful that day, or maybe a little stupid. It honestly could've been both. Both of their faces scrunched up, and I think they were trying to look offended, but I can never really tell with guys like them who were all muscle and no brain.

"I'll see if he wants to talk to you," the bigger one snarled, before he turned and lumbered off into the mansion like house I knew I couldn't even dream of owning. I couldn't help but think that crime really, really did pay pretty damn well. I leaned against the gate, then, liking the feel of the icy cold metal that cut through my duster with ease. The guard that stayed behind watched me warily, like he thought I'd suddenly call up a firestorm and burn the whole property to the ground. But to be fair, I have done that a few times, even though there really isn't any way to prove that. I was snickering to myself when the other guard came scuttling back outside, maybe creating that nice 'demented wizard' look, and that might've contributed to the fact that the one who'd waited outside with me shoved me onto the other guy as soon as the gate opened. He grabbed my arm in a tight, painful grip and dragged me inside, down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, and through an innocuous wooden door. I'd always thought that Marcone was the type who'd put a little more flair into his office, but really it was pretty plain, with a desk that looked a lot like mine, messily covered in papers, pens, and other random office supplies. There was a computer there too, though, one that Marcone busily typed on, and I cleared my throat. The man's cold, money eyes bored into me, and I attempted a friendly smile.

"Hey, John, it's been a while. You might want to unplug that thing before I come in," I said, trying to keep as much of myself as far away from the computer as I could, but when my back started to press into Marcone's guard's chest I figured I'd gotten as far back as I was going to get.

"And why is that, Mr. Dresden?" Marcone questioned, and though his voice held that normal, gentle, almost fatherly tone, there was an undercurrent of annoyance there. I guess I'd caught him on a bad day.

"Because there's a decent chance I'll blow it up," I said, but Marcone only smiled.

"I doubt whatever it is you wish to discuss with me will upset you that much. Just take a seat, Mr. Dresden, I'm rather busy today." I shrugged, and stepped closer, but I hadn't gotten within two feet of the desk when the computer started to fizzle and spark. The smell of burning plastic filled the room, and Marcone leapt backwards and crashed into the wall behind him as a slight fire broke out on the machine. I did warn him, and I couldn't help but snicker a little. I decided that was probably a bad idea, though, when Marcone fixed his eyes on me coldly, and I hardly noticed when the guard threw some water on the machine and put the fire out. It splashed onto the desk, turning all the papers there soppy, and only a light twitch revealed the mob boss' anger.

"Sorry, John. Technology seems to hate wizards. I can't really control it, but I did warn you." Marcone stood slowly, gracefully, reminding me a little of Mister when he came home after killing a bird or a dog or a person or something.

"I see, Mr. Dresden," he spoke clearly, sounding just the slightest bit out of breath from the shock, and obviously unhappy. The guard could tell this as well, and fled out the door, slamming it behind him. "Well, now that my work appears to be over for the day, what is it that brought you here?"

"I need some information, and as much as I hate to admit it, you're the best place to get it," I said, staring sharply into the man's old dollar bill eyes. It was a surprising pleasure for me to do so. I don't get to look many people in the eyes, you see, and that makes conversations seem… impersonal, I guess you could say. It's a nice treat to talk with people I've already had a soul gaze with, even if I dislike them personally. Today, though, it didn't make me as happy as it normally would, because I really needed to get Marcone's help and I'd obviously pissed him off a lot already. I needed money very soon, though, because most people already thought I was a scam artist, and working out of a cardboard box probably wouldn't help my image much. I put on my best humble, apologetic expression and looked down at my feet, hoping that the ruthless mob boss would take pity on me.

"And, Mr. Dresden, after you've barged into my office and destroyed my computer along with a very, very important business transaction, what reason could I possibly have to help you?" Damn it. I'd most certainly picked a bad day to upset the mob boss, even though it wasn't technically all my fault. I didn't think Marcone really wanted to listen to technicalities though.

"Because it's a street gang I'm after, and you know they'll be cutting into your business soon enough," I said. There you go, Dresden, a good argument.

"That's very true, however I know that I can handle such situations on my own, and have no need for your assistance." Hell's bells.

"Your men aren't equipped to deal with the supernatural. I am." Marcone hummed, a thoughtful look on his face, but I could easily tell that it was faked.

"Perhaps so, but this gang you're looking for is made up of Lycanthropes, is it not? A gun can dispatch them easily, and my men are very well trained in the art of using guns. I don't believe you're all that good with them, are you, Mr. Dresden?"

"Marcone, since you know they're Lycanthropes you probably know where they're holed up. Just tell me where they are and I'll go get them out of your hair. You won't have to dirty your hands with them, or risk the lives of any of your men." Marcone laughed, and suddenly he turned amicable again. I didn't trust it.

"You're short on money, aren't you, Mr. Dresden?" The way he said it made it sound like a statement, and I cursed him quietly.

"My financial situation doesn't matter."

"Oh, but it does, Mr. Dresden! If you had money, you wouldn't be so desperate for this case. I would assume you're about to get kicked out, am I correct? Has your detective friend lost faith in your abilities?"

"There just hasn't been much going on, supernatural wise, lately." Marcone sighed.

"Poor Mr. Dresden. Come now, I'll tell you where they're hiding out, and make a very good offer as well." I nodded, and despite knowing I'd deny any offer he made, I was pretty sure telling him so outright when he was still in such a volatile mood was likely to get that offer of information taken back too. "Good boy, Mr. Dresden," he said with a smirk when I stepped forward and sat at his desk, ready to hear his offer, which I assumed would be the same annoyingly tempting one he always gave me. I barely held the angry look from my face at his attitude, though. I hate being spoken to like a dog even more than I hate people assuming I'm already under the boss' thumb.

"Give your offer quick, John. I need to know where that gang is." Marcone sighed.

"So impatient. They're hiding in the same part of town as the Street Wolves, just a few doors down from them, actually. They've got plans to merge their organizations, so I wouldn't be surprised if the leader of the Street Wolves was over for a nice chat. As for my offer, I'll assume you already know the basics; you work for me, I pay you very, very well, and promise protection for your dear friends." I sighed and stood.

"If it's the same offer, you should know my answer by now. I'm leaving." Marcone lifted a hand, the movement smooth and effortless, the motion of a man far too used to having others follow his lead. I glared, but stilled nonetheless.

"Sit back down, Mr. Dresden. I merely said that the basics were the same, not that I was offering nothing else. Really, Mr. Dresden, you should be flattered. I don't seek out many employees so fiercely, only the very best." I heaved another sigh as I sprawled back into the chair, and I couldn't help but think that I certainly wasn't the wizard who would break the 'all wizards are filled with angst and never do anything but mope around and cast random spells whenever they're pissed off' stereotype.

"Just say what you want to say, Marcone." The man smiled his fatherly smile and gently patted the hand I'd placed on his desk when I sat back down. I twitched it, slightly, but didn't jerk it away.

"I didn't want to resort to using this method, Mr. Dresden, but after you've declined my basic offer so many times, I don't really see any other option besides giving up, and that is something I never do. Should you work for me, Dresden, I'll give you all I promised previously, along with my assistance in all of your cases, which I'll still allow you to take, despite not really wanting to. I'll give you any information you want, all the men you need to help you, and anything else you could possibly desire." I winced. As always, the offer was good, damn good, and the simple thought of my achy, empty stomach and my far too light pockets made me desperately want to accept, but I didn't work for men like Marcone. I didn't work for people who had no qualms about killing or maiming to get what they wanted.

"I'm leaving, Marcone. Thanks for the information." I stomped out without acknowledging the way Marcone's glare burrowed into my spine.

* * *

Almost a year passed before I met Gentleman Johnny Marcone again. I'd been at that god forsaken art gallery, with Susan, while her duller-than-dust partner Martin waited for us outside. He came up to us with his usual guard dog, Hendricks, but on his other side stood a tall, leggy blonde. I can admit I stared for a couple of seconds, but Susan's slap to my arm brought me out of it pretty quickly. Nothing like a jealous ex-girlfriend, I always say.

"Hello, Mr. Dresden," Marcone said with that smile he had when he pissed, the tensely taught one that pulled at his face, and there was the coldness in his eyes that suggested whoever he was looking at was terribly close to death. He was looking at me, and I wondered what the hell I'd done recently to piss him off. I couldn't think of anything, but I assumed I would find out when I saw him crook his finger at me. I turned my head to look at Susan and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Look around and see if you can find any hint as to where the shroud is. After I'm finished with Marcone I'll do the same. Meet me on the second floor in about twenty minutes." I pulled away and she nodded. Marcone's glare had intensified, but I followed him anyway. I always was good at that, doing things I knew could get me maimed, or worse.

"What do you want, Marcone? I came here for a nice night with my date, not to get in your way." Marcone hummed from somewhere low in his throat.

"You did, now? And here I thought all your dates were with large men in armor." I cocked my brow. How the hell did he know anything about Michael, or the fiasco of Bianca's party?

"What can I say? I like big, strong men. I only bring them out on work dates, though. The pretty girls get to come with me for the fun ones. Which reminds me, you seem to have gotten yourself a pretty, magical lady." Yeah, see? It wasn't just my hormones dictating my staring at her. I was noticing stuff like her having magical abilities too. I'm not a total pig, despite what Murphy tells me. Marcone continued to glare.

"Yes. Her name is Gard, you see, and she's rather skilled with wards and the like. Very helpful for keeping out pesky spirits." I finally mustered a glare to match Marcone's. The woman he'd hired had been the one who so hurt Bob, nearly killed him. I was pissed, but damn if I would show it. Marcone had obviously assumed that Bob was mine, but I would certainly not admit to it.

"I would think so. I can tell she's got a lot of talent, probably pretty good at thaumaturgy and psychomancy too, isn't she? I'd bet she sucks at evocation, though," I taunted carefully, not letting on that despite my propensity for setting many, many things on fire and calling up tornadoes, I was certainly not very good at it either. Marcone hummed again, a small smile appearing on his face despite the glare that was still fixed in his eyes.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know, Mr. Dresden. I haven't got a clue what any of those terms mean, you see. Once we're done speaking I'm certain you can discuss it with her, if you'd like."

"I've got things to do, John. Here on a date, remember? Can't have her feeling neglected."

"Of course not. Your company is very sought after, I understand, since you're such wonderful conversation, and always polite. It's a wonder you don't have people breaking down that steel door of yours." I smirked.

"Oh, I do. Tons of beautiful women, all after me. Just happens to turn out that they're inhuman and would rather have my corpse than my company. Pretty depressing, really. Now, how about you tell me what you called me over here for."

"I want you to work for me, Dresden." I sighed.

"Why do you want that, Marcone? You've just told me that Gard can use magic, why the hell would you need me too?"

"Gard is good, for the time being, but she is not as powerful as you. Work for me, or-"

"Yeah, yeah, Marcone, I already know. You'll pay me in a week more than I've ever had in my entire life, give me the use of your men, give me information, yadda yadda yadda. I've heard it all before, and I don't care. I won't work for you." It was Marcone's turn to smirk, and the room dropped at least ten degrees.

"No, no, Mr. Dresden. All those offers were rescinded the moment you left my office last year. Now, my offer is far simpler. You work for me, or I have all your dear little friends killed. I'll spare that little girl though, the Archive, and of course your knight's family won't be harmed." I snarled.

"What the hell are you saying, Marcone?"

"I'm saying that either you come under my employ or people you care for will start dying. Rapidly. Perhaps I can start with that lovely woman you're here with, Susan, isn't it? Hendricks has his gun, you know, and he gets so very upset when he can't use it." I glared at him, not quite sure of what else I could do. This wasn't Marcone's usual M.O., it was too heavy handed, too overt. Was someone controlling him? I reached out softly with my magic, feeling for any malevolence around him, any possession, and felt nothing. Either he was clear, or it was something damn good at hiding itself. Marcone started tapping his foot. "Hurry, hurry, Mr. Dresden. This is a limited-time offer, you understand." I shifted, surely beginning to look even more awkward than I already had been earlier. Could I work for Marcone to save them? Whether he was possessed or not, I didn't have much of a choice. Better to agree now and find out what the hell is going on later.

"Fine, Marcone. I'll work for you." He continued to smirk.

"You're my wizard, then?" I glared, clenched by fists, continued to shift around.

"Yeah. For now at least, I'm your wizard."

"Smart of you, Harry. Come along now, those under my employ stand with me. I would suggest that you inform your date you will no longer be able to grace her with your company."

"Whatever." Never let it be said that Harry Dresden, wizard of the White Council, doesn't take defeat gracefully. I walked away from the man and looked around the room. I spotted Susan easily and walked over to her, although she almost punched me for surprising her. It never fails to shock me when someone can manage to miss over six feet of gangly, clumsy wizard, but at least it's usually pretty funny when they do. "Hey, Susan. I think I've got a problem." She sighed, running her tanned hand through the loose tendrils of dark hair that framed her pretty face.

"Don't you always, Harry?"

"Usually, but this one's pretty big, and I'm not quite sure how to get out of it. I belong to Marcone." Her eyes widened.

"Harry, what the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying that he threatened me into working for him. It was pretty heavy handed for him, and I'm not sure he's himself. I've got to go stand with him now, and I'll probably be there for the rest of the night. Keep trying to find the Shroud, okay? Signal me if you do, and I'll try to get Marcone away so I can help you get it." She nodded.

"Yeah, okay. Be safe, Harry, and try to figure out what's going on." I nodded back and patted her shoulder. She sighed and put her hand over mine softly. I smiled, leaning down towards her face, planning to at least peck her cheek when-

"Mr. Dresden! Come here and introduce yourself to my other associates!" I growled and stood up straight, fixing my suit and putting on my best fake smile, which people have told me on numerous occasions looks like a pained grimace crossed with a sneer. Not very pretty, really, but I was definitely not planning on making any attempt to charm whoever it was Marcone wanted me to meet. The smile, though, fell off my face when Marcone wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled me far, far too close to him. The man who stood across from us didn't react.

"So this is the new, infamous bodyguard you were talking about? Doesn't look much like your usual type, Mr. Marcone. It seems more like he'd be better suited to… other work, don't you think? I know a guy who could fix him right up for you," the man said, and I cocked a brow and attempted to pull my wrist from Marcone's grip. It was iron-tight, though, and I, being not exactly what one would call 'fit' or 'strong' in any place but my legs, was forced to leave it where it was or risk it getting broken or bruised.

"Yes, I thought something very similar upon first meeting him, Mr. Jones, though my view was quickly changed. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in cunning, you see, as well as another… special talent. I would, however, still consider taking this man's number from you. Anything you'd like as a trade?"

"His 'first night' would be a pretty nice reward," the man, Mr. Jones, laughed, and I continued to stare curiously, getting more annoyed by the second. Who the hell did these bastards think they were, talking about me like I wasn't there? It pissed me off, and, once again, I was tempted to call on a firestorm bigger than anything they'd seen, teach them not to think me weak. I sighed. I was having more and more thoughts like that, recently, despite knowing how wrong they were, how dangerous. The slightest slip up and I'd have Morgan on my back again, and I sure as hell didn't want to go through my life with him underfoot anymore. Marcone suddenly lost his amicable mood, and the glare was fixed in his eyes again. That Mr. Jones obviously knew what it meant as well. "Kidding, kidding, Mr. Marcone! You know I'd give you something that simple for nothing. Think of it as a favor between friends," he tried to fix the situation.

"Favor, yes, although friends may be pushing it a bit, don't you think, Mr. Jones?" The man gave a nervous smile and pulled his phone and a piece of paper from his wallet. I attempted to step back, not wanting to break the damn thing since it looked like it would cost about what I usually made in three months, but Marcone didn't relinquish his hold. I sighed and leaned down, thankful the man was trying to shift the paper, pen, and phone around in his hands until they were comfortable, and began to whisper into the mob boss' ear.

"Let me move back a few feet, Marcone. You want a number, and I don't want to pay for that phone." Marcone sighed, but did loosen his grip and allow me to step a little behind him. In just enough time, too, because Mr. Jones had started the thing up and was rapidly scrolling through the numbers until, at last, a spark of recognition showed and he placed the paper on a nearby table to scribble a number down before shutting off the cell. The paper was given to Marcone, and the man wandered off soon after. "Can I get something to drink, Oh Mighty Ruler of Chicago?" I droned, and Marcone's eyes narrowed at me.

"Of course, Harry. I see another friend of mine by the wine anyway. Please do me a favor and muster a real smile this time, won't you?" I shrugged, and he sighed a long-suffering sigh he had no right to as he led me over to the drinks. At the sight of all the fine wines and whiskeys on the table, I wanted nothing more than a coke and said as much. A woman in a purple gown, the one Marcone had called his friend, laughed and looked at me.

"How… cute," she began, sounding like people did when they were talking about a particularly stupid dog, "You might consider the vending machine on the next floor. I'm certain you'll find one there." I grinned at her, because hey, I can be a charmer when I want to be. Susan always told me I was adorably awkward, and I figured I used it pretty well, although I'd always hoped women had a more 'roguishly handsome' idea in mind when they thought of me.

"Would if I could, but I'm sort of his right now. I'm a rent-by-the-hour date, if you couldn't tell by my good looks. I have to stick by whoever's paying me." She laughed again.

"Very cute indeed. I'm certain John here wouldn't mind you leaving for a few moments, or perhaps I could pay you instead? I believe I have more than enough to cover your 'hourly rate', and quite possibly enough to buy you a coke too, and a very, very fun night." She had to be a fairy. Or a member of the Red Court. Hell, maybe she was some kind of werewolf. Hadn't had one of those hit on me so they could kill me before. Either way, she certainly wasn't human, because pretty girls just didn't flirt with me. Susan was kind of an exception, to begin with, but now she doesn't exactly fall strictly into the column of 'human' anymore either. I felt Marcone wrap his hand around my upper arm, and it tightened painfully very quickly. I was certain I'd have a ring of bruises there by the end of an hour. For a guy who gets beaten up on an almost daily basis, I bruise stupidly easily.

"Dara, my dear, I'm afraid my bodyguard isn't exactly what one would call truthful, nor is he always the brightest man in the room. I've no problem with allowing him a soft drink, but Mr. Hendricks and Ms. Gard are both otherwise occupied at the moment, and this is certainly not the place for me to be without any protection." She laughed.

"Come now, John, you and I both know you can take care of yourself, and even if you couldn't, he doesn't look like he could stand up to a strong wind, much less the kind of people that would be stupid enough to go after you. Let him have a bit of fun," she teased, and Marcone smiled, though it seemed a bit strained.

"He's far stronger than he looks, Dara darling. Do you remember the wizard I once told you about, the one who assisted in the situation I was caught up in a long time ago?" Her smile fell, and a far more serious look took up residence on her face.

"You mean the thing with that werewolf, don't you? This is him? He really, really doesn't look like much, John." Well, I'd come a long way from being cute, but I think I went in the wrong direction. I really wonder why everyone thinks I'm so unlikeable. Marcone smiled.

"He's plenty. Would you mind looking after him for a few moments? I have a bit of business to take care of, before I leave." She smiled, and nodded.

"Of course, John. I assume you don't want me to toss him a bone?" she smirked, and once more I felt like a damned dog. He smiled back at her, a far gentler smile that I'd never seen on him before, and shook his head as he walked off. Asshole. The woman, Dara, laughed quietly. "You're a pretty interesting guy. What's your name, anyway? I usually take it upon myself to get very well acquainted with John's… employees."

"Harry Dresden, conjure by it at your own risk," I said quietly, waving one of my hands in a suitably magical gesture. She hummed.

"I thought a full name was needed for conjuring? That's what John told me, at least."

"You can do more with a whole one, but small stuff can be done with parts, especially if you personally know the one whose name you're using. Anyway, why's Marcone talking about magic with a pretty girl like you?" She continued to smile at me.

"Pretty girls can't be involved in magic?" I rubbed my head and thought of all the trouble I'd gotten into with pretty girls and magic. Most pretty girls involved with anything supernatural wanted to kill me.

"They're… usually dangerous, when they're magically inclined. Hell, my Fairy Godmother has tried to turn me into a dog more times than I can count, and I've got plenty of pretty vampire girls after me." She laughed.

"Fairy Godmother, Mr. Dresden? Aren't those just for princesses?" I shrugged.

"Give me a glass heel and call me Cinderella, Ms. Dara, because I've definitely got one. I'd prefer I didn't, though. She's gotten me in trouble more times than she's gotten me out of it."

"You seem the type to always be in trouble anyway, Mr. Dresden. After all, you are involved with John."

"That's not exactly a willing arrangement. I'm just doing it to protect my friends."

"He talks about you a lot, you know. You infuriate him, even if he doesn't show it to you, because you aren't taken in by him. You're not afraid, you don't want his money, you don't want his protection, you want nothing to do with him. It frustrates him. Whatever it is he's doing… he just wants to make you acknowledge him." I snickered.

"Yeah, I know. He wants his very own wizard named Harry Dresden who specializes in starting fires and making sarcastic remarks. He isn't the brightest, considering he's already got Gard." She smiled at me.

"I've got a feeling Gard is more a need than a want, Mr. Dresden, though you fall firmly on the side of want." I sighed deeply.

"You've got a pretty high view of me, don't you? He wants me to work for him because I'm a powerhouse. Good as she is, Gard isn't, and I can tell that just by standing beside her. She's got skill, but her power reserves aren't nearly as deep as mine."

"And you've got a pretty low view of yourself. I think he wants you for more than your magic, but what do I know, really? Anyway, John is coming back, and I assume he'll be leaving now, since his business is done. Enjoy your night." I ran a hand through my hair and could feel how it stood on end when Marcone took me by my upper arm and walked off with me. I barely managed to squirm around a give a wave to Dara before he pulled me out of the gallery. Hendricks and Gard tailed us closely, and I wondered why I wasn't beside them instead, seeing as how I was meant to be a bodyguard now. I glanced at the package Marcone gripped under his arms and my eyes narrowed. I'd been right, hadn't I? Marcone was the buyer. A small smirk pulled at my lips, and I couldn't help but think that Marcone's strange behavior would benefit me after all. I still wasn't too happy when he felt he absolutely had to help me get into the backseat of his car.

"You know I can get in a car myself, John." Marcone smirked at me.

"I'm sure you can, but I've no problem assisting you. Now, when we get home I'd like you to assist me with examining a new artifact I just picked up." I grunted.

"Yeah, yeah. Leave whatever it is with me overnight and I'll check it out." Marcone's brow quirked up and he relaxed into the soft leather of the seat.

"I don't quite know what you're talking about, Harry. When I said home I meant my own. You're moving out of that deathtrap of an apartment you're currently in. We'll pick up your things tomorrow." I can admit that I didn't sound exactly manly when I shrieked.

"Deathtrap? I like my apartment! No way in hell am I moving in with you!" Marcone stared at me in that way that suggested he was pretty sure I was an idiot.

"Your apartment is the basement of a boarding house that is very, very far from being up to code. I'm shocked that the roof hasn't caved in on you yet." I glared and crossed my arms, but no, I did not pout at him.

"It's a nice apartment. It has… character. Besides, my lab is in there. No way to move it."

"I'm certain Gard wouldn't mind giving you access to hers, would you Gard?" The blonde shook her head.

"No, not if you give me some access to your supplies. I've heard that you manage to get your hands on very rare potion ingredients, and I'm certain I could make use of them." I couldn't help but smile at her. I don't get to talk about the Art with people who can actually use it often, and it's almost always fun, no matter the situation. I maintain that as my excuse for why I said what I did next.

"I do manage to hunt down a few interesting items, but it's mostly because of Bob's help." I felt Marcone's gaze burrowing into my side again and cursed myself.

"Bob? Who is that, Harry?" Damn, damn, damn.

"No one important, Marcone. You'll probably never meet him." At least, not if I could do anything about it. He already suspected that the spirit Gard's wards had caught was mine, and I certainly wasn't going to let him know it was important to me. Who the hell knew what he'd do then? Gard snickered quietly.

"I would think this Bob is quite important, Mr. Dresden, if he can procure some of the things I've heard you have." I rubbed my head.

"The rumors about me are exaggerated."

"Really? So you haven't got any Asphodel?" I winced.

"I uh… I might have a little. That isn't all that hard to get though."

"It only grows in the Nevernever, Mr. Dresden." This was not as pleasant as it normally was.

"Tame parts of the Nevernever."

"No part of the Nevernever is 'tame' Mr. Dresden. Have you got any dragon eggs? A very reliable source told me you picked a few up." I shrugged and squirmed a little.

"Someone owed Bob a favor."

"So you do?" I nodded. "How about Fluxweed, or Hellebore? Do you have any Re'em blood?"

"How many people spend their time talking about what's on my potions shelf?"

"More than you'd think, I'm sure. Now, do you have those things as well?"

"I used up the last of the Hellebore last week, but yeah, I've got the other two things. If you need Hellebore, though, I can get it pretty easily. I've got a good supplier for that, since the stuff it goes in is usually harmless."

"You do? Is this supplier related to that Bob of yours?" I shook my head.

"Nah, he doesn't know about Bob, if he did he probably wouldn't associate with me nearly as much as he does. My guy is just a priest with a really nice garden who happens to feel a little indebted to me after some of the help I've given him. He wouldn't if he knew about Bob, though, since Bob isn't exactly… savory to priests." I wasn't lying. If Father Forthill knew I had a spirit who was bound to a skull in my basement he'd be pretty upset with me.

"Not savory to priests, eh? What is Bob, Mr. Dresden?" Gard's voice was a little teasing, and her eyebrow was quirked up. It drew attention to her glinting blue eyes, and I had the sudden thought that maybe Gard wasn't quite human either. I squirmed and ran a hand through my hair.

"Do tell her, Harry, I'm rather curious as to the identity of this Bob as well. If your priest friend doesn't like him I can't imagine how it would be good for you to associate with him." I continued to wiggle in the annoyingly soft leather seats and wondered how my stress hadn't made the stupidly expensive car blow up yet. At that thought I heard it sputter a little and quickly calmed myself down enough to allow a decent lie to tumble out of my mouth.

"He's a demon, alright? My godmother introduced him to me as one of her contacts, before I found out she'd rather have me as a dog than a man."

"A demon? I've never known them to be friendly with humans." I shrugged.

"Lea, my godmother, has a lot of sway in the Nevernever, since she's such a high ranking Fae, and Bob could tell I was important to her, so he made me important to him." Gard nodded, and I noticed that Marcone's eyes remained narrow. Could he really be that upset that I had such a good contact? I almost wanted to laugh at him, but that might've blown the lie.

"You keep referring to this Bob as male, so I'll assume that's the form he wears?" I thought for a second. Could Bob manage to pull off a flesh form long enough to fool them? He'd told me he could create a body for himself if I told him he could, so I nodded.

"Yeah. I don't know his real name, and I've never seen him in any other form, so it's mostly habit at this point." She nodded.

"Understandable. Now this Bob is obviously quite high ranking. Is he an incubus of some sort?" I shook my head quickly.

"No, no, but he talks about them all the time. He almost always tells me about one of their escapades that he joined in on, or one he's gone on by himself. It gets really annoying really quickly, and he reads too many trashy romance novels." Gard laughed, and the harsh sound didn't fit with her looks.

"I've never heard of a demon with such… personality." I shrugged again, and my upset look wasn't a lie. Bob really did know some incubi, and I was tired of hearing about them. His novels were starting to clutter up my shelves, too.

"Bob's different." Marcone suddenly cleared his throat.

"A demon is a demon, Harry. I wouldn't give him all the trust you so obviously have. I'm certain he would betray you in an instant, given the chance." Marcone's arms were crossed over his chest tensely, and I heard the teasing of an Italian accent at the edges of his voice, mixed in almost seamlessly with the barest hints of a Chicago accent. It was a little funny that he had one and hid it so well, when I myself had lived there for years and never picked one up. I'd always figured it was the wizard in me, since my own accent was close to ancient and sounded good when I was talking to real demons.

"Maybe so, but as of now he's a good friend."

"I won't allow one of my people to consort with a demon unless I meet him," Marcone said, and the accent deepened a little. I looked into Hendricks' shocked eyes through the rearview mirror, but I jerked my gaze away quickly. The rules for Soul Gazes weren't exactly clear for reflections, and I didn't exactly want to get myself caught in a mirror. It had happened once before, and it was really no fun at all. I'd always figured Alice had the wrong idea before that had happened, and after I was certain of it. A lot of really nasty beasties love mirrors, and they really love having a Harry to snack on. I shrugged at Chicago's kingpin.

"Whatever. Take me by my apartment, I'll call him up." At Marcone's nod, the car was turned around and we reached my apartment within five minutes. Marcone was the only one that followed me in. "Wait up here, okay? And don't… mess with anything. It might blow up in your face. I'll be back up here soon." He nodded stiffly, and I quickly climbed into the subbasement and shut the trapdoor behind me. "Bob, Bob! Wake up, Bob! I need your help, and I need it quick." The orange lights filtered into the skull's eye sockets quickly because of the panic in my voice. Lazy as Bob could be, he was always quick to come when I was really desperate.

"What's going on, Harry?"

"Marcone. He's got me working for him, and he's got a woman with him who can use magic. I don't think she's human, and she got me talking about the unique ingredients I've got. I… accidentally mentioned you, and since I didn't want them to know you were the spirit they caught so I told them you were a demon. You told me you can make a body for yourself if I allow it, didn't you? So go ahead, I allow it, quick!" The eye lights flashed, and a laugh made its way out of the skull's mouth.

"Sure thing, Harry, you idiot." I glared as the orange lights filtered out and became a cloud before me that formed quickly into a human shape. That shape was then covered in a layer of pale skin, a set of shiny orange eyes, a large, shit-eating grin I'd always figured Bob had, and a mop of white hair. All I didn't expect was the fancy suit he wore that made the one I still had on look like I'd picked it up out of the trash. "This good enough for a rush job?" I nodded at him, and grabbed him by the hand.

"Yeah. I'll pick you up some novels as soon as I get a chance, alright?" We went quickly back up to the main room of my apartment and found Marcone sitting stiffly on my couch, his legs crossed. His gaze pierced Bob the moment we appeared, but Bob, ever the savior of my ass, met his gaze evenly and pulled his hand free of mine so he could bow.

"Good evening, Sir Marcone. Dear Harry informed me that thou wished to speak with me." Marcone twitched a little, though I didn't know why. Maybe he could feel Bob's aura, which seemed ten times as strong to me in his human shape.

"I do. Are you quite sure you aren't an Incubus? I've seen very many, you know, and one of my associates has taught me to identify them." Bob smiled.

"I am quite positive, Sir Marcone, that I am no Incubus, although I'm very glad that my form is so pleasing to thee." Marcone rolled his eyes, something I'd never seen him do before, and wondered if I would have to deal with Marcone flirting with my damned spirit.

"Cut the shit." Bob cocked his head.

"That was quite rude, Sir Marcone, and after dear Harry told me that thou held the title of Gentlemen."

"That's little more than a moniker for the papers. I'm no more a gentleman than Harry, and I would assume you know quite a bit of his manners."

"I know very much of them, yes. I've known dear Harry since he was an apprentice under one Justin DuMorne. I daresay I taught him more than DuMorne did, actually. In fact, twas I that taught him the flame spell he's so very fond of, and my words are the ones used in his casting. I must say, however, that he was far better behaved in his youth, though I fear it was DuMorne that caused that obedience rather than anything else." I rubbed my forehead. Bob was talking too damned much, about things Marcone had no business knowing, but I couldn't scold him for exaggerating or lying, like I normally could when he wouldn't shut up, since he'd yet to say anything that wasn't the truth, other than calling himself a demon.

"I doubt anyone could control Harry so thoroughly, Bob. He's very willful. By the way, doesn't Harry use Latin for his casting? I don't believe you have a monopoly over the words."

"DuMorne was a powerful warlock, Sir Marcone. He very much enjoyed punishing poor dear Harry, especially with a set of Thorn Manacles. I came across them multiple times. Oh, and the words dear Harry uses are pseudo-Latin, not the real language. I'm afraid he's very woeful when it comes to actual Latin, much the same way I was."

"Ah, yes, I've heard of Thorn Manacles. They're used to block a person from using magic, are they not?"

"That's right, Sir Marcone. I often found my dear Harry with them on and removed them for him. I suppose I was merely lucky that DuMorne had no knowledge of my ability to remove them." Marcone hummed and stood, while I stood there and wished Bob would shut up. There was really such a thing as too much truth when it came Gentleman Johnny.

"Come, the both of you. Bob, you will be staying with me until I feel you are no danger to Harry." Bob smiled and took my hand again.

"I don't like leaving here, Sir Marcone. All my things are in this home, and dear Harry could tell you I've never been exactly what one would call accommodating towards his previous companions."

"I care little for your comfort. Come." Bob smiled again.

"I must say, Sir Marcone, that thou hast very little knowledge of demons. My power exceeds thine by an immeasurable amount, and I do not wish to go with you. Dear Harry and I shall remain here."

"No. I neither like you nor trust you, Bob, and Harry shouldn't either. Your tone towards him is disgusting, as though you own him." Bob continued to smile.

"But I do. Dear Harry may as well have been given to me the moment I was asked to be his guardian." Marcone released a primal sound that made me think of a tiger breaking free of its cage, and I wondered how that metal refrigerator soul looked right then. It was one of the first times I ever wished I could Soul Gaze with anyone twice.

"Demons have always sickened me, and it seems you are no exception. Harry, come with me. The demon may remain here, if it likes, but you will no longer be consorting with it." Marcone really had a strange way of flirting. He'd obviously been attracted to Bob, from the way he'd been staring at him, but now he was more pissed than I'd ever seen him. Had Bob subtly turned him down in some way I hadn't noticed? Maybe Bob's stories about being able to seduce anyone, and then turn them down were truer than I'd thought.

"You were the one that wanted to meet him, Marcone, so don't get so pissy. You can't really stop me from having contact with Bob, by the way. I couldn't really stop me from having contact with Bob. I've been bound to him since we met, so if he ever wants to see me, he can. You've got power in Chicago, Johnny, but you're as powerless as any other mortal in the Nevernever. Hey, before we leave, do you think I can change clothes? I don't know how in hell you manage to wear suits every damned day." Marcone blinked, obviously a little shocked, and yet again I wasn't really lying. Bob was my spirit, and so we had been bound together so that he could appear if ever he was needed, or even wanted. There had been a few times I'd been stuck someplace, and, even if I knew Bob couldn't help, I'd still call him for the company. He was a pain in my ass, but he was damn sure my friend.

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being inconsiderate of you, Harry. I know you're quite uncomfortable in such attire. Please, do go change." I began walking off, and Bob trailed along behind me. I assumed he wanted to tell me something privately, and I guess Marcone assumed the same thing and didn't want to be in the dark, because he told Bob to stay where he was. I was actually a little surprised when Bob listened.

I heard Bob and Marcone talking through the door to my room, which I'd shut behind me, but it was all muffled and I could hardly make out a word of the conversation. All I really knew was that they mentioned my name a lot. I figured they were wondering how long I would take, and if they'd have time to make out while I was changing. I really hoped I didn't see my spirit's tongue down Marcone's throat, or vice versa, when I left my room.

When I did finally exit the room, Marcone's fists were clenched at his sides and there was a flickering light in Bob's eyes, as well as a smirk on his face. Had I just interrupted something? The idea of cockblocking Marcone almost made me want to laugh, but I, being the broody wizard I am, was able to resist it.

"Harry. Good. Come, we're going now. I promise I'll personally bring you back tomorrow to retrieve the rest of your things, and once you set up in my home, I'll have you check the artifact I received this evening." And he wanted to meet with Bob again. Great. Really, really great. I'd have to talk to Bob about this, later.

"Sure thing, boss," I said mockingly, and left my apartment behind Marcone. I heard Bob laughing behind me. That ass.

* * *

We got outside and I both locked and re-warded my door, all while Marcone stood with crossed arms, looking impatient. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the car. When he shoved me into it, he wasn't nearly as gentle about it as he had been earlier in the night, and I ended up having my head slammed against the window. Did he really want to screw around with Bob that much? Maybe I should give him my house key and an amulet to get through the wards, tell him to have some fun for the night? Bob probably wouldn't complain, but the more I thought of it, the more I figured I should probably avoid letting a mob boss who knew only the basics of magic in my house, where nearly everything had some sort of purpose behind it.

"Drive, Hendricks. I would like to get home as quickly as possible." Marcone's voice was tense, and when I looked at his hands, I saw that they were clenching and unclenching against the leather of the seats. His nails were leaving light streaks in the material, and it looked almost like he'd be making gouges soon. I made a note that a horny Marcone was not a happy one, and rubbed the sore spot on my head.

"I assume you did not have a happy meeting with Mr. Dresden's demon?" Gard asked, one blonde eyebrow cocked up to her hairline.

"No. That thing is quite infuriating. I would like to speak with you alone, when we get back to the house, alright, Gard?" She smirked slightly and nodded.

"Of course, Mr. Marcone." The rest of the ride was silent, and my head was still pulsing when we pulled up to Marcone's mansion. He helped me out of the car, and his grip was far looser than it had been previously.

"I'm sorry for pushing you so roughly, Harry. I forget that as strong as you are magically, and as clever as you are, I am still physically stronger than you. I didn't mean to harm you," he said, and the hand that wasn't holding my wrist moved to run through my hair. I flinched away from the touch, but he didn't seem to notice or care, and his fingers rubbed the aching spot on my skull. I tried to ignore the fact that it felt really, really good, and I totally didn't whine or make any other stupid noise like that. Whatever. Think what you want.

After he pulled his hand out of my hair, Marcone led me inside and up the flight of stairs that led to his office, but instead of going towards it he led me the opposite way. We got to the end of the hallway before he opened up a heavy looking wooden door and led me inside.

The room was obviously expensive, with a thick, soft carpet and wispy looking curtains. The dresser was solid wood, not the stuff they make school desks (and a lot of my furniture) out of, as was the bed. I could hardly even bring myself to look at the bed anymore though, the wide, long bed that had to top out at about seven feet, the one that was obviously so soft a bug could make it sink, the one with large, fluffy comforters I'd always dreamed of owning. It was surreal when I moved over to it and plopped down, but I still managed to muster a glare at Marcone's smile.

"This doesn't look like a bodyguard's room, Marcone."

"I treat my people well, Harry. Besides, if I put you in an area of the house where Gard or Hendricks sleep, I'd almost certainly have to kiss all of their equipment goodbye. Have you got that stick of yours with you?" I yawned embarrassingly loudly and crossed my arms, wanting nothing more than to collapse backwards on the deliciously cozy bed. The wonder at Marcone having one to fit me left quickly, but I figured that was for the best. I didn't want to know how much the damned thing had cost, or how long Marcone had been planning on putting me in here.

"You mean my blasting rod, Marcone?"

"Whatever it is you cast with, yes."

"No, it's back at my apartment, along with my staff. Don't think I can't do magic without those, though. They're just foci, not necessary instruments." I didn't tell him that if I tried to do an evocation without them there was a fifty-fifty shot of me burning myself all to hell along with whatever I was actually aiming to get, but there were some things he didn't really need to know.

"I realize as much, Harry, I'm merely asking for your own safety. You may still be able to cast, but you cannot do so as efficiently, therefore I'll have a bit of extra security around your room tonight. I can't have anyone harming you, you understand." I rolled my eyes, wondering how in hell Marcone seemed to know so much and more than a little pissed that he kept referring to me as though I were weak.

"Aren't I supposed to be your bodyguard?"

"Outside of this home, yes, but inside it, you are my responsibility just like all my other employees. Have a nice night, Harry, and if you need anything, just ask someone in the hallway, or come find me. You can check the artifact tomorrow, after we collect your things." I nodded and fell back on the bed, glad I'd changed into sweatpants instead of jeans. I was asleep in about ten minutes.

* * *

Marcone's POV

After I left Harry in his new room, I walked down to the basement where Gard had chosen to live. I'd attempted, upon her arrival here, to give her a room of almost equal quality to the one I'd given Harry, but she'd denied it, citing her many years of living in similar environments to a basement and the comfort they brought her. I'd questioned it a bit, but Gard was an interesting woman. Not nearly so interesting as Harry, but interesting nonetheless. I knocked on her door and she called me inside.

"Yes, Mr. Marcone? What is it you wished to discuss with me?" I took a seat in one of the chairs she'd had brought down to the room and crossed my legs.

"The mating habits of demons." She cocked and eyebrow.

"I suppose this has something to do with that Bob of Harry's?" I nodded, a little embarrassed to be asking her of such things, to be flaunting my insecurity. "Alright. Most demons don't have sex with a human out of any sense of attraction, but rather because they wish to possess the human they're with. Usually any sex for attraction occurs between two demons. Every now and then, though, a demon will come across a human they fall in love with, whether for power, looks, or something else entirely, and will mate with said human. This won't make you feel any better, John, but this most often occurs between a high demon and a wizard." I cursed.

"And I'd thought the damned thing was lying to piss me off. While Harry was changing, it told me that it had slept with him." Gard hummed.

"Did he give you a timeframe for when it had happened?"

"It said it'd done it last night, in Harry's lab. It took great delight in telling me about the noises Harry made during the event." A small smile appeared on Gard's face, and relief flooded into her eyes.

"It was lying then. I didn't smell anyone but the woman he was with at the gala today on Mr. Dresden. Besides, demons are very possessive lovers. If Dresden had ever slept with it then it would never allow him to bed another. I wouldn't doubt that it wants Harry, though, if it told you such things." I'm certain the relief in Gard's face flooded over my own.

"Good, although I can't say I'm happy he's been with her either." Gard shook her head at me.

"Nothing to worry over, Mr. Marcone. What they did was… how is it worded? Break up sex, I believe. I could tell from the way they were acting. They still cared for each other, obviously, but some situation has them separated." I nodded, and ran a hand roughly through my hair, which had grown continuously messier as the day went on.

"I suppose I can only hope it's a permanent separation, then." Gard smiled.

"I believe that's the best option, yes. Ah, and Mr. Hendricks wanted me to tell you something."

"Yes, Ms. Gard?"

"He said he found out that Harry frequents the local IHOP, if his funds permit it. If you wish to make him happy, I'd suggest getting some pancakes prepared for him." I smiled again and walked up to my own room, a few rooms down from Harry's own. I set the clock quickly, for early enough that I could get up and make the pancakes for Harry myself. Knowing him, there was a decent chance that he wouldn't eat them, but I'd do all I could to make him comfortable after the circumstances I'd had to invoke to get him here.

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, I ran down to the kitchen, paying no mind to the stares of some of my people. I didn't know why they were looking at me strangely, really; they should've been informed that Harry was in my home, and I knew Hendricks spoke often of my odd behavior when it came to the wizard.

I shoved my chef out of the way and dug around through the countless cookbooks, many of which had been my mother's.

"Mr. Marcone? What is it that you are looking for? Perhaps I can help you find it," the chef said, one brow cocked high.

"Pancakes," I said by way of explanation, but the chef only stared more strangely at me. I sighed. "Harry likes pancakes. I want him happy."

"I… alright. I'll make some for him right away, Mr. Marcone. There's no need for you to find the recipe for me." I shook my head.

"I'm making them myself. If you know what book the recipe is in, do tell me, but otherwise you may go to the other stove to begin preparations for everyone else's food." He sighed the frustrated sigh all my employees seemed to produce whenever I even mentioned the wizard's name.

"Whatever you want, Mr. Marcone. I believe there is a very nice recipe in that book there," he said, pointing to a leather-bound blue cookbook with golden lettering. Not one of my mother's, but rather a very old, very nice one I'd seen my chef eyeing raptly one day close to his birthday. As I've said, I treat my employees very well. I opened it up and found the recipe for the pancakes, but I noted that it seemed very advanced, a complex version of the simple dish. Harry probably wouldn't like it, but I shrugged. I could likely take the recipe and dumb it down to a level where Harry would enjoy the results.

I rooted through the kitchen and found all I'd need to make it and got to work. By the end of a half an hour, I'd finished up, and the result was a steaming plate of sweet-smelling pancakes. I grabbed butter, syrup, and whipped cream, not knowing what Harry would want on his, and walked up to his room. Yet again, all the employees I passed stared at me, but they, at the moment, were of little consequence. All that could matter to me right then was getting to Harry, doing my damnedest to make him smile. I knocked loudly on his door with the hand that wasn't toting the food.

* * *

Harry's POV

I groaned loudly when a knock sounded against my door, and my first thought was that it was Murphy, or maybe Kincaid, coming over so he could let Ivy play with Mister. Then I remembered where I was and shot upright, before I climbed out of bed and marched over to the door. I jerked it open with my best 'doom death despair glare', but Marcone only met it with a smile. I turned around glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and saw the time.

"It's six in the goddamned morning, Marcone. This is the first good night's sleep I've had in over a month, and I really don't want you to fuck with it." Marcone continued to smile.

"I'm sorry. I thought you might be hungry; you can eat, then go back to sleep. We won't leave until you're ready. Please, do eat! I made these for you, dolcezza, so I hope you enjoy them. I heard you liked them." I blinked. Marcone was babbling. _Marcone _was babbling. And he called me something in Italian. Something was definitely possessing him, and while it had made him into the threatening asshole I'd always pictured kingpins to be yesterday, today it was making him unbearably… was sweet a word I could use to describe Marcone? I looked at the food, wondering if it was poisoned, if the sweetness was just an act to lull me into trusting him, but my stomach growled angrily at the luxurious scent of pancakes, a treat I hadn't had for far too long. And syrup, oh the syrup… if he was going to kill me, he'd choose some other way, right? Maybe a bullet to the head or a knife to the throat. Marcone, even possessed, would never use pancakes, of all things. I snatched them from his hand and felt a lot like that little thing from Lord of the Rings. Precious! Gives me the precious!

"Uh… thanks, Marcone." Oh Harry, you paragon of wit!

"No need to thank me, tesora. Please, enjoy them and go back to sleep. Come find me whenever you're ready to go, alright?" The Italian words were getting damn weird damn quick.

"Um. Uh. Sure thing, Marcone." And then I shut the door in his smiling face. I was really going to have to find out what had a hold on him really quickly, or I might go insane. Possessed Marcone makes really good pancakes though.

* * *

After I ate, I went back to bed and woke up again at a much more comfortable noon. I stood up and wandered out of my room, not bothering to straighten my hair or my clothes. I stopped the first guy I came across to see if he could tell me where Marcone was.

"You… you're Harry Dresden, aren't you?" I blinked. Apparently I was something of a legend around here, the way this guy was talking.

"Yeah. Harry Dresden, the only wizard in the phonebook. Conjure by it at your own risk, yadda, yadda, yadda." I was still tired. Shut up.

"Oh. Jeez, I'd heard you were here, but I didn't really believe the person who told me. I've heard a lot about you, from the people here who've met you! Did you really kill a werewolf?" I shrugged.

"Loup-garou, and I only helped."

"Loup-garou?"

"Uh huh. It's a specific type of werewolf, and some types get offended if you don't call them by their real name. Like, I know a group of shape shifters, and they'd get pretty upset if someone thought they were the traditional, howl at the full moon werewolves everyone sees in movies. Loup-garou are the only ones that follow that pattern. Anyway, do you know where Marcone is?"

"Oh! Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to hold you up, Mr. Dresden! Yes, I know where he is, I'll take you, okay?" I quirked up an eyebrow. Did this kid think I was going to burn him all to hell for asking me a question? Stars, I hadn't even done that to Marcone himself, and he pissed me off a hell of a lot more.

"Hell's bells, you don't have to be so jumpy. I'm not going to catch this whole place on fire, if that's what you've been told. Keep me away from anything technological made after World War II and I won't break a thing, promise."

"Does… does stuff made after World War II upset you or something? Like, is it some kind of protest against things changing?" I laughed and we started walking.

"Nah. It doesn't upset me, but I really upset it. Something about magic makes every machine within about twenty feet suddenly want to kill itself. It can be useful, on occasion, but more often than not it's a pain. I was able to use that little feature to ruin Marcone's security cameras once, though. During that loup-garou incident you were talking about earlier." He smiled a nervous little smile, obviously a little worried over laughing about something unfortunate happening to his boss.

"Really?"

"Yup. Screwed up his computer last year, too. But that wasn't really my fault, because I did warn him." The kid looked at me funny. "I did! Everyone always thinks everything is my fault! Like the elevator at my apartment! You let a giant scorpion break it once, and then suddenly every damned time a demon decides to eat it or an imp thinks it would be fun to jinx it it's your fault!" The nervous kid let out a real, honest to goodness laugh, and I grinned at him.

"You're funny! I don't know why everyone was telling me not to get involved with you! I know you're dangerous, but you don't seem like a bad guy." I shrugged.

"I guess Marcone would tell you I was dangerous, huh? And Hendricks would, too. I don't know about Gard though. Just met her last night, you know? Still, I don't really have any desire to hurt Marcone or his men. You guys are important to Chicago, even if you help out in areas I don't really approve of and in ways I don't really approve of. The only time I did something that directly resulted in the death of one of Marcone's guys was when I chased the prick who took some of my hair into one of Marcone's clubs, and I'm not the one who killed him. I think it was Hendricks, actually." The kid smiled at me.

"It wasn't Mr. Marcone who told me you were dangerous, and Mr. Hendricks didn't either, really. It was some of the other guys, a few lower level ones like me. I've never really met Mr. Marcone, other than in a few passing situations. Mr. Hendricks was the one who told me I should stay away from you, though, when he found out about how interested I was in you. Anyway, what was that you were saying, about one of Mr. Marcone's men taking some of your hair?" Well, this kid had calmed down quickly. But that was good, I guess, since it meant there was a better chance of me having a companion in this house while I tried to figure out what was going on with Marcone. It was a little weird, though, that Hendricks had just asked for him to stay away from me without mentioning that I was a danger. Wasn't my problem, though, and besides, this kid wanted to know about magic, and I was happy to oblige. As long as he didn't ask about anything I couldn't say, it'd be a pretty fun chat, the way I figured it.

"The hair? If you get hair from someone, you can do a lot to them. Curses are first and foremost, which is why I was so worried. At that time, there were a lot of nasties after me, and if they got my hair there was a decent chance of me ending up dead." He nodded and cocked his head.

"You say curses are first and foremost. What else can you do with hair?"

"You can cast any spell that's related to the person whose hair it is. A lot of small timers will open up a shop that sells love potions and stuff like that, since all they've got to do is make a base and put in an Effort of Will, but if a person bought it and put the hair of the person they were after in it, then drank it, then the potion would work. It's the same if you wanted a certain person to have really good luck, sweet dreams, nightmares, hell, even if you wanted them to leave town. If you've got a person's hair, or any other personal item of theirs, then you can get them to do pretty much whatever you want. Fresh blood is especially potent, but it's useless as soon as it dries up."

"I never knew it was so easy to control someone," he said, and I smiled.

"That's life. Most people don't use that method, though, since it's honestly a lot tougher than it sounds to get someone's hair, especially since it won't work if you just use some stuff you pull out of a brush. It's got to be fresh, from right off their head. It's also tough to get an item personal enough to use as a substitute, and blood is usually out, for obvious reasons. I mean, whenever I want to do something for a friend or a client, like fix up a charm, I've got to ask them to let me pull a hair or something, since it's so tough otherwise. If a warlock's trying to curse someone, then they usually go the Name route."

"Name route?"

"Yeah. A Name is pretty much the most powerful, personal thing about a person. It's not as simple as what you tell someone when they ask what your name is, but rather it's how you say it, and it's your whole name, every single one on your birth certificate. It's usually easier to get, especially if you're bargaining. In fact, I know a demon right now that's got three parts of my Name, since I've called on it for help before and I don't have anything else to use to barter with."

"So… I shouldn't tell you my name, then?" I smirked.

"I just said I couldn't do anything bad with it unless I had the whole thing. I could probably give you a good night's sleep, or something, or maybe have you find a five dollar bill on the street, but not much else." He nodded.

"My name's Sam, then. You really are Harry Dresden, right?"

"I am. Just call me Harry, alright? My last name isn't great enough to be used every time you want to talk to me." He smiled.

"Sure thing, Harry. Hey, can you give me a hint as to your whole Name?" I shrugged. I didn't think it could do any harm, really, since there was a chance he wouldn't be able to figure it out, or put it in the right order, and he certainly wouldn't be able to say it properly.

"I was Named after three magicians." He nodded.

"Well, I know one of them is Harry Houdini, right?" I nodded. "I've just got two more to figure out then!" I snickered.

"Work on it, kid. Like I said when I met you, though: conjure by it at your own risk." He laughed again and shook his head at me.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Harry! Anyway, this is Mr. Marcone's room. I've heard he's usually in here at this hour, so you can go ahead and check. I'll wait here for a little bit in case he isn't, so I can try to help you find him."

"Thanks, Sam," I told him as I knocked on the door as hard as I could. It opened in a few seconds and a vaguely disheveled Marcone opened it. Definitely possessed. Marcone would never even think of appearing in front of me without being perfectly composed, but now he stood before me, suit wrinkled and tie crooked. I barely resisted the strange urge to reach out and straighten it.

"Harry! Have you slept well? Did you enjoy your breakfast?" I blinked, and I could see Sam doing the same thing out of the corner of my eye. Stars and stones, he'd somehow managed to get even more cheerful!

"Yeah, yeah I did. That's the answer for both questions, by the way. Are you ready to go? Mister is probably hungry, since I forgot to fill up his bowl last night."

"Ah yes, your cat. I've had this house set up to accommodate it, so you should be able to bring it with you today." I blinked rapidly a few more times.

"Oh, alright. I was just going to drop him off at Michael's, but I'm sure he'd like the extra space to roam around in. Do you have something high up for him to sleep on? He likes my bookshelf." Sam suddenly laughed quietly from his place at my side.

"You really are a stereotypical wizard, aren't you, Harry?"

"Nah, a stereotypical wizard would have a skinny, short black cat. Mister's thirty pounds, comes up almost to my knees, and he's gray." Marcone cleared his throat, and a sharp look appeared in his eyes. Damn it, had I pissed him off again? Whatever had him was really pissy.

"Yes, well. I'm certain Mister will find a place high enough to suit him. There are certainly plenty of high shelves around here, and I've already spread the word that he may be coming here, so no one will bother him. Come along, Harry, we must be going if we're going to get your things, and I must pick Gard up as well. She's rather curious to see the home of a famed mortal wizard such as yourself."

"Well, she isn't human, is she? I can imagine she's wondering a little about me."

"Good assumption, cucciola mia*, she's a Valkyrie. Hendricks!" Marcone yelled, and the red head lumbered down the hall. "Take Mr…"

"Maricks, sir," Sam said.

"Take Mr. Maricks with you on your rounds today. I'm certain he'd enjoy seeing what you do in a day. Be sure to show him il luogo ideale per coloro che toccano il mio tesora, yes?" Hendricks nodded, once, a stiff movement, and took Sam by the arm. I was a little worried. Marcone had spoken Italian, a language I had less than no knowledge of, so he could've been telling Hendricks to take the poor kid anywhere. Killing room, torture chamber... Hell's Bells, I hoped I hadn't fucked the kid's life up. He was nice, a little trusting for a member of the mob, but nice. I liked him, from what little time I'd spent with him, and he didn't deserve to get messed up because he'd been hanging around me. I glared sharply at Hendricks and hoped that got my point across, because there wasn't much else I could do. Especially not with the new information about Gard. A damned Valkyrie. She might not have the magic reserves that I did, but I now certainly knew she had all my skill and more, and more influence and strength than I could shake a stick at. Why Marcone could possibly want me when he had her, I would never know, since I was pretty sure she could kill me if she had a stray thought about it. "Good. Come along, Harry." He took me by the arm again (and I was right, he had bruised me last night), and tugged me along. The place his hand gripped twinged angrily, but I ignored it in place of staring at him.

He really was in good shape, for his age. Whatever his age was. He looked perpetually in his early forties, that man, with dark hair that always had the slightest touches of gray at his temples, and he honestly hadn't aged a day since I met him. He was stronger than me too, at least physically, and maybe emotionally too. That iron refrigerator soul showed that, but I still wondered what people saw when they looked in me. I probably could have asked Susan, before, but I was never totally certain I wanted to know. I sighed and rubbed my head with the hand Marcone wasn't still controlling. He paused.

"Does your head still hurt? I really am sorry for shoving you so hard." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not that weak, Marcone. I was just thinking, and I always do that when I'm thinking. You're not having Hendricks hurt that kid, are you?"

"Mr. Maricks? Of course not, he's one of mine, and had not done anything to suggest he has betrayed me. He will be treated with all the respect I give my other men."

"Then why did you tell Hendricks to bring him somewhere in another language?"

"So he will be surprised, when he sees it. I was referring to the security room, you understand." I grunted, not quite believing him, but I had no proof, so I couldn't really say anything, not in my position. Marcone left me at the front door and came back about ten minutes later with Gard, and we all left together.

* * *

Sam's POV

I can't say I wasn't nervous, when Mr. Hendricks took my arm and led me off. I'd seen the way Mr. Marcone was looking at me, and I had to have done something to anger him, but I couldn't imagine what it had been.

"Mr. Hendricks? Whatever I did, I'm sorry for it!" I said, my voice a lot squeakier than I wanted it to be, and I could imagine a sneer on Harry's face. He wouldn't want to befriend me, not _the _Harry Dresden, the one from all the stories told in the rooms of Mr. Marcone's men. It was surreal that I'd even met him, much less had him speak with me. And about magic, no less! If I didn't die today for some unknown thing, then I'd have such a story for the guys! Harry Dresden told me about magic, told me to call him Harry! He didn't mind that I seemed like such a coward. He was nice. His rings were pretty, and so was his bracelet. I realized I should've asked about them, and in my musings over what they were for, Hendricks spoke in his slow, well-thought-out way.

"You didn't do anything, really, but you were with Harry Dresden. That's… it's not something John's too good with. He's weird, when it comes to Dresden. Calls him his treasure, even uses the feminine version of the word. It'd be funny if it weren't so damn weird. Dresden's oblivious, though, always has been. Hell, it's understandable. John kidnapped him for their first meeting, just had me throw him into the damn car. Made Harry do something called a Soul Gaze with him, and he's been obsessed with him ever since. With an introduction like that, though, I can't see how Dresden could see anything other than animosity from John." I blinked, and I can admit that a lot of the words went right through me. I knew he'd been talking about Harry and kidnapping, though, so I was a little worried.

"Is Harry okay?"

"What?" The way Mr. Hendricks' voice sounded, I'd almost definitely misunderstood.

"Is Harry okay? You said something about him, and kidnapping." The big man sighed and repeated what he'd said.

"Oh. That explains that look, then. I'd like to see Harry's soul," I said, distractedly, my mind still a little ways away, because I'd just met a man who'd become one of my idols, and I was on a first name basis with him! The red head swatted the back of my head.

"You keep saying shit like that I can't promise you won't end up dead. I just said John's weird about Dresden, and even if I don't think you want him like that, John will. I've got some proof of that that he wanted me to show you. It's in this room, here," he said, gesturing to one of the heavy metal doors that lined the halls on the bottom floor of the house. I'd always figured them to be some sort of holding cells, for Mr. Marcone's enemies, but I'd never really wanted to see. It seemed like I was going to today, so I nodded once, stiffly. "Don't know why you're nodding, you don't have much of a choice but to look, because I don't have much of a choice but to show you. You seem like a decent kid, but I'm not going to risk my ass on you. Dresden probably will though, so don't worry much. He honestly wouldn't let John touch you, if he knew about it, but it's easy to get stuff by Dresden. Now, you wanna know what's back here, before I open the door?" I was scared of what I'd see, so I nodded.

"I do. I don't… I don't want to be surprised."

"Most people don't, not when John is concerned, and definitely not when people he cares for are involved. This room has all the information John has gathered on the people involved with Harry, and the ones he's found in the underworld that are interested in him in some way. There are contingency plans for all of them, if they do something John doesn't like, and there are death records for more than a few. This is the room you definitely don't want your name in, kid, because even if it isn't the only room where the people whose names are inside happen to end up dying, it's certainly the one where they die the most violently." I flinched, and the door opened. The sheer quantity of filing cabinets surprised me, and Mr. Hendricks could obviously tell it. "You think this is a lot? You should see the room on Harry himself. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling in there." I called up a wan smile and walked inside, glancing at the small notecards on each cabinet, with words written in small, sharp letters.

"Harry's friends, Harry's enemies, those to whom Harry has debts, those with possible romantic feelings towards Harry… how does Mr. Marcone find all of this?"

"A hell of a lot of legwork. He doesn't even let anyone else help with this kind of research for fear that they'll miss something. Even I'm not allowed to assist. I know that last one you read out, the romantic feelings one, got a new entry last night."

"It wasn't me, was it?" I can admit I freaked out. I admired Harry and all that, and I was desperate to be friends with him, but romantic feelings? Definitely not!

"Nah. Some demon Dresden's got, named Bob. Ms. Gard told me about it late last night, how when John went into Dresden's apartment last night it talked about how it screwed Harry in his lab. John was more pissed than I've ever seen him when he got back into the car. I've got no damned idea what he would've done if Gard hadn't told him the demon was lying to him. So, should you be in here, kid?" I shook my head rapidly.

"No, no! Of course not! I just admire Harry, but not in that way! It's just, I hear all about him from the older guys, and I was curious when I heard he was here, and I wanted to meet him, but I didn't look for him! He found me and asked if I knew where Mr. Marcone was, that's all, and I didn't do anything but take him to Mr. Marcone's room and-"

"Shut up, kid, I was kidding. Look, remember a long time ago, when I told you not to get involved with Dresden? This is why. Nearly everyone who does gets put in here. Hell, _I'm _in here. I'm in the miscellaneous cabinet. My boss, my friend, who I've known since we were kids, has a goddamn contingency plan to take me out if he thinks I've gotten too close to or done something to his dolcezza. That should tell you how fucking insane John is about him."

"Dolcezza?" I asked as I opened one of the 'friends' cabinets and pulled out one of the files. I could admit some curiosity to the apparent brutality that Mr. Marcone revealed in the things. The name on the front, stamped in thick, black, blocky letters, was Michael Carpenter. Hadn't Harry mentioned a Michael earlier, when he was talking about his cat? I flipped it open.

"Yeah. It means sweetheart in Italian. It's something most guys would call their girlfriend, but John's got to be different and call a fucking six foot tall wizard that." I smiled a little, but I dropped it when I started to read the folder.

**Name: Michael Carpenter**

**Relationship to Harry: One of his first and best friends. Met him upon moving to Chicago, in a church called Saint Mary of the Angels Harry went to in order to have a meeting with a man named Father Forthill (see his folder in Harry's Friends cabinet). Harry has been known to trust him with nearly everything in his life. Often accompanies Harry on his cases. Is close enough to Harry to have accompanied him to a party of Red Court Vampires as his 'date'. **

**All other information: Likely knows more than a few secrets of Harry's that could be used against him. Is a Knight of the Cross and is called the 'Fist of God' by Harry. A very religious man who has a large family that consists of a wife and seven children. Because of this family, the risk of him pursuing Harry romantically is quite low, especially when compared to many of his other friends. Works as a carpenter. Red Court Vampires experienced a burn when touching him at the previously mentioned party, and Black Court Vampires experienced a slightly more severe one. Is very proficient in the use of his Knight's Sword, Amoracchius. A dangerous man in a fight, especially since he has knowledge of magic and could, theoretically, defend himself against some. He cannot kill someone who is innocent, or his blade would rebel against him, meaning I myself would have next to no chance against him. I do, however, have some men who could fight against him with little risk of death. **

**Plan: If his death becomes necessary, it must be done quietly, preferably not near his wife, his children, or Harry. The best option would be to take him as he leaves a work site, when it is unlikely he will have his sword, and bring him a swift death to reduce the risk of divine intervention. Upon killing him, it must be made certain that Harry has no knowledge of my involvement. **

The picture beside his name was of an older man, maybe in his late thirties, with deep brown hair that had next to no gray and a short, neatly trimmed beard. His expression was resolute, his dark eyes strong, and I could see the white robe draped over his shoulders. If ever I'd had to envision what a Knight of the Cross would like, it was him. He looked like someone worthy of being Harry's friend.

"This is… it's strange. I don't know how or why Mr. Marcone would do this. Doesn't he have a thing about children? How could he be willing to deprive seven kids of their father? And he seems like a good man…"

"I told you, kid. When it comes to Dresden, all his rules go out the window. That one certainly isn't the worst, though. He saves the really brutal stuff for his perceived romantic rivals. You seem like you've got a pretty weak stomach though, kid, so I wouldn't look at those. Be sure you put that file back where you got it." I nodded and slid it back in the cabinet.

"What… what sort of things are in that cabinet?"

"I believe there's one in there pertaining to a man named Jared Kincaid, who Dresden recently met. Apparently, John has thus far perceived nearly every interaction between them as Kincaid flirting with Dresden. I think he's got something about disemboweling him. The one for some guy named Thomas Raith is pretty bad too, I think. That guy's a sex vampire or something like that, I don't really know, who Dresden met at that party John keeps mentioning. He wants to starve him, if he ever feeds off of Dresden, to make him suffer. I'm pretty sure he wrote something about screwing Dresden in front of him while he was starving. Don't look so shocked, kid, John's a brutal man. He always has been." I felt a little sick at these words. I worked for him because my father had told me about him every day of my life, said he was a good man that kept the underground straight, who handled the things the cops couldn't. I'd always respected him, but now, to hear this, to hear that he thought such things about a man like Harry… I felt so, so sick.

"Has he ever done any of those things?"

"No. He's killed some of the people in here, but only from the 'enemies' cabinet, and all of those deaths were quick and efficient, like the ones he'd give his own enemies. I guess, though, that if anyone's an enemy of Dresden they're an enemy of John too. You ready to leave here, kid?" I nodded, and he led me out. He locked the door behind him and I made note of the number carved in the iron door. 259. Should I tell Harry about it? It was all related to him, I knew, all his business. He deserved to know about something like this. "I wouldn't if I were you, by the way," Mr. Hendricks said suddenly, once we'd gotten about halfway down the hall.

"What?"

"You know what. Don't tell Dresden about that room, or you'll get a hell of a lot of shit and he will too. In fact, I wouldn't suggest you going near him anymore, honestly. It wouldn't be good for you, to make John think you and he are friends." I felt anger towards one of my superiors for the first time. Who the hell was he to say I shouldn't be friends with Harry? We… we were friends!

"But we are friends! He let me call him by his first name, and he talked about magic with me!" Mr. Hendricks rolled his eyes at me.

"Dresden lets everyone use his first name, when he isn't being a little bitch, and he'd talk about magic with a goddamned rock if he thought it was listening to him. Christ… but, he does need someone to look after him. John… I love the man, but his lovers… he's bad with them. Possessive to a point of obsession. He's worse with Dresden than I've ever seen him, and they're not even together yet. I don't know what'll happen to the man, if he ever gets with John, and he's not a bad guy. I sure as hell don't like him, but he's not a bad guy. Chicago needs him, and he's helped me out on occasion. Shit, don't… don't tell John about this, but I want to show you something else, alright? You tell him about this, I promise I'll swear up and down you're lying, you altered the security footage, and I'll kill you myself." I'm sure I looked confused, but… Mr. Hendricks wanted me to protect Harry. I'd dreamed of doing that since I'd heard of him, because who doesn't want to feel useful to someone so strong?

"Alright. Whatever it is, I won't say anything to Mr. Marcone. I promise!" Mr. Hendricks nodded, and led me off down the hall, down into a deeper level of the basement, and into another of the rooms with a steel door. He opened it with the same key he'd used to open the other one. The number that marked this one was 500, and I figured it was probably pretty recent.

The inside of the room was a little strange, with glass cases against one wall and a projector in the center of the room, aimed at an empty wall.

"This is the weirdest fucking room John has. He doesn't know I know about it, but honestly, it's pretty much a shrine to his tesora."

"What's tesora?" I asked as I wandered in and went to the glass cases.

"Treasure. When he was talking earlier, in Italian, about where to take you, he said that he wanted you to see the room for those who touch his treasure. That's his favorite term to use, with regards to Dresden, at least when he's talking to anyone else. When he's talking to Dresden himself, though, he likes sweeter things, like dolcezza, or cucciola, which means puppy. Tesora is a very endearing term, though, something you only call your dearest. I've never even called anyone that. Come to think of it, John's never used it, either. Fuck… I shouldn't have fucking brought you in here. Fuck," he said, and near the end I could hardly hear him, but the words managed to make me more nervous.

"Harry's important to him, then," I said, glancing into the glass cases to see they were filled with seemingly random things. A pen was in one, a lump of chalk in another, and… was that a robotic chicken? There was a ring, too, a beat up silver one that looked suspiciously like the ones I'd seen on Harry's hand.

"Very. God. Shit. Don't… call him Harry anymore, okay? Call him Mr. Dresden no matter where you are, no matter who you're with. Be as professional as you can manage, okay? Don't… don't touch him, either, not even to shake his hand." I only managed to nod as I continued to glance at the cases. A stained white t-shirt, a scrap of what appeared to be leather, a twisted, gnarled chunk of metal that might've been red once upon a time, and… oh god. A hunk of dark, curly hair. Hair that could've been Harry's, hair that could, according to him, be used for all manner of vile things. I moved to the projector and started it up, finding a stack of slides beside it. The first one, when I put it in, revealed the image of a smiling Harry in a heavy leather coat, his arm over the shoulders of a rather cute, annoyed looking blonde. The image of her face had a cut through it, thin and precise, like what someone would make with a butterfly knife, the sort I knew Mr. Marcone favored. He reached for the second slide only to feel a hand wrap around his wrist.

"What?" I snipped, uncharacteristically, and Mr. Hendricks shook his head.

"Don't. You touch these and you might leave prints. You leave prints, John's going to check them. John checks them, and you're screwed." I nodded and plucked the first slide out before I wiped it on my shirt and put it back where it had been. Mr. Hendricks then dragged me out of the room and up the stairs. "Remember, kid: don't mention that fucking room. Don't even think of going back down there; don't talk about any of it. Don't call Dresden Harry, call him Mr. Dresden, and, God help me, if you want to stay safe don't fucking touch him. Look after him, but you'd damn well better not let anyone know you're looking after him." I nodded once, stiffly, shocked at all I'd learned in one little day, and walked listlessly along after Hendricks as he started his rounds.

* * *

Harry's POV

The car ride was blessedly quick, since I, apparently, wasn't worthy to sit in the front seat and had to stay in the back with Marcone. I figured it was to reduce the risk of me busting something up up there, but it was still a pain. I was used to driving myself everywhere, but now I'd have to do nothing but rely on Gard, Hendricks, and Marcone himself, at least until I could figure out what was going on with Marcone and get the shroud away from him. When we pulled up to my apartment I jumped out and ran in, both Gard and Marcone close on my heels. Damn, I'd been sort of hoping I could just rush in, shut the door behind me, and ward myself up until they gave up and left, but I guess it'd been a vain hope anyway.

Inside, a surprisingly human Bob sat sprawled over my couch, Mister lying comfortably over his leg. I had the strangely irrational thought that the cat would get hair all over his suit while I noticed he seemed a little more solid than he had the previous night. I guessed he'd had time to perfect the look.

"Harry dear!" he said loudly, a bright grin on his face, and I wondered why in hell he had to use that annoying pet name thing he'd started up when I was young. It had made me happy, then, because it'd made me feel loved when I was an angry, bitter orphan. The little things like that that Bob had done had gotten me through that time with DuMorne, honestly, and I appreciated it. I also appreciated that he reverted back to those habits whenever I was upset, but right now I was perfectly fine, and had no reason to be comforted. I didn't really feel like revealing all this to Marcone and Gard, though, so I just kept quiet and thought of ways to screw with Bob later. Burning his books might be a fun way to start.

"Bob. Did you feed Mister?"

"Of course I did, Harry dear. Thou knows I'm quite fond of the little beast. I've also tidied thine room and cleared those things that were no longer usable from thine lab." Damn. If I'd known he'd actually be helpful if I let him use a human form, I would've allowed it long ago!

"Thanks Bob. I promise I'll pay you back for all that as soon as I can, okay? Any book in particular you want?" He looked thoughtful for a second, and I saw Gard staring at him curiously out of the corner of my eye, while Marcone watched the proceedings in an annoyed huff.

"I do not think I want a book in return for my help this time, Harry dear. I would like companionship for a day, perhaps a good chat. Shall my wish be granted by thee, Harry dear?" I can admit I was confused. Bob hadn't asked for something like that since the first few weeks of our friendship, during the time when he was as unused to having someone care about him as I did. Up until I'd met Bob, all I'd had was my father, and once he died… I was lonelier than I'd ever been, and DuMorne's cruelty had only heightened the feeling, especially before Elaine had come to live with us too. Even with Gard and Marcone in the room, I couldn't help but worry that something was wrong.

"You haven't asked me for something like that since we met, Bob."

"Shall you grant or deny my request, Harry dear?" The formality of all this brought back more memories of our first meetings. The Bob of that time had spoken like a demon, and he hadn't been Bob. He hadn't been anyone, actually. He'd been a Spirit of Air and Intellect, lifeless and dull. I'd called him Bob for the first time, when DuMorne left me alone with him, because I'd said Spirit of Air and Intellect was a mouthful. He'd given that skull-smile he always used now, and we'd formed a tentative friendship that grew by the day. If Bob wanted something like that from me, I couldn't help but think he was upset or worried over something, and so I would never deny it from him.

"I'll grant it."

"Shall thee swear it thrice?" Yeah, it must've been serious, for him to invoke the power of three over me.

"By the stars, your request shall be granted. It shall be granted. It shall be granted."

"Thrice sworn and so bound."

"What seriousness for a matter so simple," Gard said with a smile, and Bob returned it.

"A promise means little if it cannot be trusted, dost thou not think?"

"That's true enough, I suppose. I must say, I've never truly met a demon before. What sort of bond have you with Mr. Dresden?"

"One which runs deep and long within our essence. Tis one born of loneliness, of an orphaned child and a Fae's chosen demon. One which neither of us could deny, even if we so longed to."

"A bond through life and through death, one which will remain long after you have faded from the memory of man and my bones have turned to dust beneath the earth," I said, because I remembered the words. I'd asked Bob the same question, when we became friends, and he'd said the same thing, with the only exception being that instead of calling himself a Fae's chosen demon he called himself a bound spirit. I heard Marcone snarl and wondered if he was upset that I was so close with a 'demon' he obviously wanted for his own.

"Interesting. Harry, might you explain that swear of yours to me? By the stars?"

"Not much to explain, really. The stars are important to mortal wizards, always have been. The five pointed star is the symbol we, I especially, live by because it represents magic. And really, just look at the stars; they're burning balls of gas, millions of miles away, which hang beautifully in the sky. They're like natural magic, in some ways, magic any vanilla mortal can touch. To swear by the stars is basically to swear by our magic, and therefore ourselves. It's the most binding oath a mortal wizard could take."

"Are there any other variations?"

"It can be worded in different ways, I guess, but in most situations just, 'by the stars' is fine. I've heard it a little differently in a couple of White Council meetings, though. Some of the older members use, 'I swear by the stars I swear by'."

"That seems quite redundant."

"It is, usually, but it's a little more formal, and the White Council loves theatrics and formality. It's why I don't fit in." Marcone laughed, suddenly.

"Harry, please don't attempt to say you're not a theatrical man. You've a flair for the dramatic at the best of times," he said, a small smirk on his face, and I couldn't help but return the laugh.

"Never, Marcone, I'm as elusive as a wallflower." The boss hummed, and Gard laughed softly.

"Ah, and what of the other oath I've heard you use, Hell's Bells?" I shrugged a little and moved to sit by Bob on the couch, seeing as how it seemed I'd be answering questions before I could get to do any packing.

"That one I don't really know. Much as I hate to admit it, I picked it up from DuMorne. As far as I know, it's just an expression to show shock. I think it's a plant, too, though, some kind of hallucinogen. Isn't that right, Bob?"

"Quite right, Harry dear, Datura Stramonium. Very nasty little thing, not of much use in potions unless one wishes to poison."

"Hm. Might I see your lab now, Harry?" Gard questioned, and I wondered when and why I'd become Harry to her, rather than Mr. Dresden.

"Sure, come on. I'll take you down with me and you can help me pack up. It'll give Bob and Marcone some time to themselves, I guess." I stood and walked her over to the trapdoor, which I quickly opened. She seemed surprised that I thought Bob and Marcone would want alone time. Huh. And I'd thought she'd be perceptive to the flirting between the two of them. I allowed Gard to go down first and followed her shortly after, catching only one shout from Bob before I shut the trapdoor behind me.

"Forget not thine oath to me, Harry dear!"

* * *

Marcone's POV

Five minutes in the damned demon's company and I was already more angry than I'd ever been. The thing apparently couldn't go five minutes without reminding everyone in the room that he'd known Harry the longest, that he'd been the only one there to comfort him during his time with a man named DuMorne (who I had little information on. I'd known he'd been Harry's guardian, for a while, but I'd known nothing of the cruelty he'd shown Harry, and I still didn't know the circumstances during which Harry left him), that he had such a deep, powerful bond with Harry, one that would remain unbroken even by death. Bob was a prick of the highest degree.

"Must you babble on so about your closeness with Harry? You're obviously not that close, if he's about to leave you here."

"Did thou forget already, Sir Marcone? It will be simple for me to see Harry, all I must do is wish to be beside him, and I will be. Tis easy, you see."

"I'm unsure if I believe you, demon, after you spouted such lies last night. You've not ever slept with Harry."

"Did you ask him that, or did you ask your Valkyrie?" My eyes grew wide for less than a second before I schooled my expression back to careful blankness.

"I asked Ms. Gard; such a question is quite inappropriate to pose to one's houseguest."

"She used her sense of smell, then, and found only Lady Susan on him, correct?"

"Yes," I said stiffly, moving to sit on the couch, and he leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"It's quite amazing what a bit of magic perfume can do to throw a Valkyrie off the trail, isn't it, Sir Marcone? He's so good, so responsive, he never even notices when I spray him with it. I don't much like doing it, of course, but it'd be dangerous for him, if he smelled of me. Although, now that Lady Susan is nearly a member of the Red Court I'll have to cover him in someone else's scent. Perhaps that of Lady Murphy." Without truly meaning to or wanting to, I punched him. Harry makes me insane. I felt my fist connect with flesh, heard a quiet crunch, and saw the demon wince as some sort of smoky, orange blood flowed from his mouth and jaw. Then I saw those wounds close up, and the thing turned flaming orange eyes at me. They were narrow and sharp, not playful as they usually seemed, and a shock of fear stabbed through me without my consent. I stomped it down and met his glare with one of my own.

"You haven't slept with him, and you will not. He is my wizard, now, and he won't be coming back to this apartment, or you, again. If he sleeps with anyone, it will be me."

"Dost thou think he longs for thee, Sir Marcone? The only name, beyond those of Lady Elaine and Lady Susan, that he has every cried, or will ever cry, is mine. Soon he will be gifted with my true name, and then we shall swear ourselves to each other."

"What are you saying, swear yourselves?" I snarled, and I'd only felt like this once, long ago, when I'd first seen what had happened to little Amanda Beckitt.

"A demon and a wizard, bound together forever in love. One wizard, just for me, to have as I please. One demon, just for him, to have as he pleases. He would kill for me as I would kill for him. To rule the Nevernever with iron, and to belong only to each other. It is the ultimate dream, Sir Marcone, one that we are near to fulfilling. All that's left is ceremony."

"What ceremony, demon?"

"Ask your Valkyrie, it's one she'd know. It's one all those familiar with the art would know."

"You're the one who wishes to brag to me, are you not? Wouldn't you telling me be more appropriate, more pleasing to you?"

"I suppose that thou art correct, Sir Marcone. You truly are a clever man, hm? Harry dear and I shall perform the Binding of Three, once used to mark a slave with its master's name. With it we shall become one in the eyes of the stars, one in the eyes of the gods, one being of two. It is a ceremony that can be performed only once, and is unbreakable."

"It will not be occurring, not between the two of you. You will not be granted entrance into my home, demon, and after today Harry will be beyond your reach." The trapdoor Harry and Gard and left through opened suddenly and they climbed out. Harry's face was livid, and upon Gard's there was a small smirk.

"Bob! What in the seven hells are you saying? You've taken this too far, Bob, and I know you probably see what you're doing as a joke, but most mortals don't. Marcone, Bob isn't a demon; he's a spirit of air and intellect. My spirit, actually, and the one that got caught in Gard's wards not long ago. I didn't mean to mention him last night, and I said he was a demon to keep him safe. Gard confronted me about it down there, so there isn't much point in lying about it anymore. Now, Bob, tell me why you were saying we were going to perform a Binding of Three. You know I'd be less than a slave if I did that, Bob. Stars and stones, is this why you were acting like you did when I was ten? To screw with Marcone?" I watched Bob squirm on the couch, seeming like a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I did it for you, boss, to make Marcone admit to wanting you." My breath caught, but I covered it with a small laugh, and I relaxed when I saw Harry's incredulous expression. He had only heard from the point of the discussion of the binding spell and onwards, meaning anything incriminating I'd said hadn't been heard by him.

"Marcone doesn't want me, Bob. This isn't a novel. Hell's Bells, Marcone and I can't even be called friends, honestly, and we're only even allies half the time." '

"Then why is he forcing you to work for him? He wants you, Harry; please recognize that or he'll hurt you. I don't want you to get hurt, Harry. If you do… what am I going to do? You're all I've got, Harry; you treat me like a human. I need that, now. If you weren't around, if you hadn't been as strong as you are, I'd still belong to DuMorne. Please believe me on this, Harry. Have I ever been wrong before?" A hand made its way roughly through Harry's hair.

"No, you haven't, but I know you've always wanted me with someone like Marcone, someone who could protect me and keep me from getting involved in things you think are too dangerous. Even a spirit can become a victim of wishful thinking." I'd never heard Harry sound so serious, never known him to not attempt to work his way out of a situation with a joke. It was strange, but I found myself happy that Harry, even if it hadn't been what he was aiming for, admitted that I could protect him.

"Not me, Harry. I'm a spirit of intellect. Saying untruths is hard for me, you know that."

"But not impossible, and you're also a spirit of air. Go to your skull, and I'll pack it up with the rest of my stuff and give you your day with me tomorrow, if you still want it."

"Yeah, alright. Thanks, Harry. I love you," Bob said, his eyes strangely wide, nervous and worried.

"I love you too, Bob, don't worry. You're my friend; I'm not going to just get rid of you. Go to sleep," Harry said, and while I now knew that all the spirit had been doing was screwing around with me I was still upset. With those words of love, some of the interactions between them that I could've passed off as being false became painfully genuine. Bob drifted down into the subbasement and I saw a small flash before the space grew as dark as it'd always been. Harry grabbed a heavy, blue flannel robe and threw it over his shoulders before he walked back downstairs with Gard on his heels. I remained silently upstairs for about an hour after that, fiddling with random things I happened to find in the room, nosing through old case files and flipping through books. Mostly, I supposed I was trying to find something he wouldn't miss, something I could tuck away in my pocket to keep, so I could remember that Harry had so trusted me, had left me mostly alone in his apartment. I opened up a drawer and pulled out a heavily folded letter written on old, thick yellow paper. It appeared to have even been written with a quill and ink and I cocked an eyebrow as I opened it.

Wizard Dresden:

I assume you have already been informed that the White Council will be meeting in Chicago. I also assume that you plan on not attending in order to make yet another mockery of you ill-earned title of Wizard. As distasteful as it is for me to write to you, I must in order to tell you that if you do not attend this meeting or give a valid reason as to why you cannot, it will be assumed that you have, or plan to, betray us, and the Doom will be reinstated.

I'm quite certain you have no desire for me to resume my watch of you, and I, though it would bring me great pleasure to see you stripped of your status and executed, have no desire to spend all my days in Chicago with you yet again. If you haven't been told, the meeting will be on June 13th in the Chicago Hotel and Conference Center at 3:00 P.M. Lateness will not be tolerated and proper dress is expected.

-Warden Morgan

Today. Whatever the hell the White Council was, Harry was a part of it, and was expected to attend a meeting. And if he did not, something called the Doom would be put over him, and that would apparently result in a person who wished to execute him following him around. A noisy knock sounded on Harry's door, and I, without thinking, put the letter back in the drawer I'd gotten it from, closed said drawer, and moved to answer it. On the other side stood an older man, a little hunched, dressed in a heavy black robe.

"Are you Warden Morgan?" I snarled, perhaps a little irrational, and the man's eyebrows quirked up.

"No, but I don't see where that much matters to you. Who are you, anyway, and where's Harry? Something important is happening, and he needs to be there." I hummed, not quite sure of the man.

"Harry is here, in his lab cleaning out his things. Might I know your name, so that I can tell him who's here?"

"Ebenezer McCoy." I nodded, shut the door in his face, and pulled the trapdoor open.

"Harry! There's a man at the door for you, an Ebenezer McCoy." Harry cursed loudly and set the box he was holding on the ground before he quickly climbed out of the lab and threw the blue flannel robe off.

"Tell him I'll be out in a minute, Marcone. I've got to change," Harry said, his shirt off before he even made it into his bedroom. I did my best not to stare before I reopened the door and informed the older man of what Harry had said. The man sighed, a long-suffering noise that apparently could be produced by everyone that knew Harry.

"He must've forgotten, silly lad." There was a deep accent to his voice, southern and twanging, not something often heard on the mean streets of Chicagoland. It was a strangely comforting noise, even to me, and I managed a smile at him, though I'd never heard of a man named Ebenezer who associated with Harry. I was missing a large chunk of his life, though, from about when he would've turned sixteen to when he moved to Chicago. This man could've very easily had something to do with that missing lump of time, especially since he appeared to be a wizard as well.

Harry came stumbling out of his room, then, clothed in a black robe that flowed from his shoulders to his feet. It clung to the sharp points of his hips and shifted prettily as he walked. I had the sudden thought that he looked ancient, like that, like the wizard of a king in the age of knights and dragons. I imagined, for a split second, that I was that king, that Gard and Hendricks were my knights, that we formed a sort of happy family. I wondered who the dragon was that would ruin it all. Perhaps Bob, or that Morgan, or any number of countless enemies. Harry grabbed his staff from the umbrella bucket beside the door and wrapped the blue stole I hadn't noticed he held around it and walked to the man outside the door. He was more beautiful than I'd ever seen him, right then, all sharp angles and flat planes and mile long legs.

* * *

Harry's POV

I couldn't believe I forgot the goddamned meeting, after that letter Morgan had sent me. I supposed I just should've been grateful I'd asked Ebenezer to pick me up for the damnable thing, but still, I'd nearly just gotten myself killed, and I wouldn't have even known why if it happened! I liked to at least know who I'd pissed off enough to want me dead, and why. It was common courtesy, really, but no one uses manners these days.

"You ready now, Hoss? We've gotta go or we're gonna be late."

"Yes, sir. I'll be back in a few hours, alright Marcone? You and Gard stay here. I'll, I don't know, take you both to Mac's to apologize," I said, despite having hardly fifty bucks to my name, and ran out the door behind Ebenezer. It slammed shut, and we walked over to his truck. His rifle and staff hung familiarly in the back window, and I smiled. Good old Ebenezer, the only man I'd ever called sir, the one who'd taught me my views on magic, my views on everything. I respected him more than any other person on this earth, and smiled at him as I climbed into the passenger door. By the end of an hour, we got to the hotel's parking garage, Ebenezer parked the truck, and we went inside.

It was easy to find where the meeting was taking place, since that particular area of the hotel had all the lights off, as well as the heat, and, of course, enough robes to make the average vanilla mortal think they'd stumbled into a renaissance fair, or maybe a cosplay festival. We walked to the entrance together, and Ebenezer was let right in, but Morgan stopped me at the door.

"So you did manage to make it, Wizard Dresden. And you're even dressed properly, isn't this a sight?"

"Har har. You're the funniest man I know, Morgan. Can I go in, now?"

"I must check you for black magic first."

"You didn't check Ebenezer."

"Wizard McCoy is a well-respected member of the White Council, Harry. You are a breaker of the first law, and a formerly Doomed warlock."

"I'm pretty sure the warlock thing was dropped, Morgan. Hurry up, check me if you want, then let me go to the meeting." Morgan nodded, a slight smile on his face, and took me by the arm. His hand then made its way up, felt over my robe, across my chest, and down my stomach. I shifted, a little annoyed. Checks for black magic were always overly personal, at least I thought. I'd never seen one performed on someone else, so I didn't have too much to go on. The hand went to my hips, squeezed one and then the other, then Morgan had to crouch to continue working his way down. His hands felt each of my thighs, pressed roughly into the muscle there, and then trailed to my calves and did the same, then my ankles, and finally my feet. He gave a sharp glare when he saw that they were adorned with tennis shoes, but stood nonetheless and nodded at me.

"You're clear, Dresden, but leave me all weapons but your staff. I'll allow you to keep that as a matter of decorum, since that is where one's wizard stole must be kept, but if you even appear to attempt to use it, I won't hesitate to use Thorn Manacles on you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You just can't wait to get me in bondage, can you Morgan?" I sniped at him as I unhooked my shield bracelet and slid my force rings from my fingers. My blasting rod was slid from the little loop I had in my sleeve, and, seeing as how that was my last weapon, I attempted to go inside, but Morgan stopped me again. "You don't want me to be late, do you Morgan? It's 2:58 now, you know."

"Your necklace too, Wizard Dresden. I know you can channel magic through it."

"Oh, fuck me, Morgan; all I can do with this is make it light up. Is the Merlin allergic to light now or something?"

"Just give it to me, Dresden. You'll have it back with your other things once you leave. By the way, you're getting far more vulgar. You usually just ask me to blow you." I heaved a sigh, and as much as I hated to, I pulled the pentacle necklace over my head and handed it to him. He gripped it tightly, perhaps to promise me he'd keep it safe, as he'd always had at least a small soft spot for sentimentality, and I walked into the conference room. I saw Ebenezer in the front, an empty seat beside him, and grinned as I walked through. The large crowd of brown-robed apprentices that still milled around looked at me in awe and parted before me like a wave, and their chatter increased when they saw that I sat with Ebenezer. Apprentices were like that, I knew, all admiring of wizards and especially wizards people told stories about. There were a ton of them about me, none of them good, and there were a ton of them about Ebenezer, all of them good. The dichotomy between us would have all the little brown robes talking for days. I sighed and looked at Ebenezer, preparing myself for yet another endless stream of Latin I'd barely be able to comprehend. Stupid Latin correspondence course.

The Merlin stepped up after a few moments, and cleared his throat heavily before he began to speak. The entire room listened raptly and I rolled my eyes. The man was certainly no one to worship, at least not to me. I have a habit of not liking people who want me dead.

"Welcome, my kin. I am glad that you all could make it. It seems even our ever elusive Wizard Dresden managed to arrive," he said, his eyes sharp and that annoying maybe-British accent delicately tingeing his words. A few glasses clinked and a few toasts sounded before the Merlin quieted the room and began to speak again. "Nearly all is calm, in this moment, except for a bit of a mishap that has occurred with the Vatican. It seems that the Shroud of Turin has been stolen and sold, right here in Chicago, which is the reason for our meeting happening here. We believe that the buyer of the Shroud is the, how is it said, kingpin of Chicago, Gentleman Johnny Marcone. The Shroud must be recovered from him at all costs."

"Here, here!" most of the room shouted, but I stayed quiet and glared. This was my damned case in my damned city, why was the Merlin getting involved? He knew I took care of things like that in this area, and always had.

"Honorable Merlin, why are you involving us all? Wizard Dresden will likely take care of this incident easily on his own," Ebenezer, my hero, said. The Merlin sneered.

"Wizard Dresden is on friendly terms with this Gentleman Johnny, is he not? And besides, such an artifact mustn't be polluted with the touch of a warlock." I clenched my teeth and did my best to keep quiet, despite wanting to deal with the insult in my usual way: excessive sarcasm and a hundred insults in return. It wouldn't do to piss the 'mighty Merlin' off so early in the meeting, though.

"The charges were cleared, Honorable Merlin. I've vouched for him myself, many times."

"And he repays you by skipping countless meetings, by bending the Laws of Magic. He is not worthy of the high esteem with which you regard him, Wizard McCoy."

"He is a wizard, though, Honorable Merlin, same as me. Since his trial he has done nothing to suggest that he is practicing black magic."

"Perhaps not, but perhaps so. Warlocks are notoriously good at hiding their doings, are they not? We knew not Justin DuMorne's flaws either, until he burned for them. Like teacher like pupil, hm?"

"DuMorne was never Wizard Dresden's teacher. Nearly all he knows, he learned from me or the spirit that DuMorne held."

"And I'm quite certain that all the spirit has taught him has been sunshine and rainbows, now stop in your protests, Wizard McCoy. If Dresden manages to get out of Mister Marcone's pocket long enough to take the Shroud, then I will appreciate his assistance as much as I would any other wizard's. I simply don't foresee it happening." My teeth gnashed together. I wasn't in fucking Marcone's pocket! Yeah, he was in my apartment, and yeah, I was pretty sure I'd invited him to go out for lunch when the meeting finished, but still. It wasn't my fault the prick threatened me and my friends. The other me in my head, the sleeker, stronger version of myself, laughed and told me taking people out to lunch wasn't my usual response to threats. I told him to shut the hell up. "Now, the public issues have been discussed, and so apprentices may wait outside or stay as they please. All wizards, please remain and pay close attention. _Warden Morgan, you have the floor." _Morgan stood and walked to the front of the conference room to stand before the Merlin and began to speak. Unlike the Merlin, whose Latin was perfectly natural and fluid, Morgan's was a little choppy in places, a little stiff, but still vastly better than mine. It pissed me off more than a little.

"_The vampires want Wizard Dresden." _The horses want me? What the hell? I had to have misunderstood, so I looked to Ebenezer. He mouthed vampires at me, and I sighed. Why did all of our meetings have to be in a dead language?

"_For what?" _the Merlin asked, and I did at least understand that.

"_As payment for stopping the war." _

"_Dead or alive?" _

"_Half-dead, weak enough he won't struggle. I assume they want to drink him." _He assumed they wanted to what me? Did… did he say bone? It sounded like bone, and I was pretty sure he didn't mean the boning someone would do with a fish, or the stuff in corsets. I didn't like the meaning that was left. I looked to Ebenezer for clarification, and he rolled his eyes. They want you weak enough that they can drink you, he mouthed at me, and I nodded. Yeah, that made a lot more sense.

"_And if they turn him? That's a risk we cannot take." _

"_Even if they didn't turn him, you couldn't give him to them," _Ebenezer said, his voice sharp, and the Merlin laughed.

"_One man, who may yet betray us, for countless lives? I would choose to serve him up to them on a silver platter." _I had no idea why I specifically needed to be served to the vampires in a silver miniskirt, but the idea of being given to the vampires in any way wasn't exactly appealing, so I finally spoke up.

"_Good to know your socks are so beautiful." _The room went up in laughter, mostly from the apprentices, and I blinked. I'd thought that was a pretty dramatic line! What was so funny? Ebenezer sighed.

"Harry, speak English. I'll translate for you." I blushed, I can admit it. I'd apparently just mangled the Latin badly enough that if my reputation was dead before, it was chopped up and buried now. I nodded, my face still bright red, and the conversation continued.

"_I agree with you Honorable Merlin. It'd be quite simple to draw up a contract that specifies he's not to be turned," _Morgan said, and I wondered if it would be appropriate to punch him.

"_That's quite acceptable, then. Warden Morgan, do grab him, he appears to be about to flee. Bring him up here and bind him. Keep a sword to his throat so he doesn't run whilst we vote on the issue." _Yeah, I didn't understand all of that, but I heard sword and I heard throat. I jumped up, attempting to head to the door, but for a big guy, Morgan's fast. He was also strong, and it didn't take long for him to pinion my arms to my side and force me down on my knees in front of the Merlin, who tossed him a pair of Thorn Manacles. I glared at them, and that glare intensified when the damned things got hooked around my wrists and I felt the sharp point of a sword press into my neck. A thin stream of blood started to flow, I figured just to remind me that the damn sword could take my head off in a second, if the wielder wanted it to. And these pricks wondered why I didn't go to these meetings.

I could hardly pay attention as they spoke because of the throbbing pain that stemmed from my wrists. I know the things weren't meant to hurt, that all they were supposed to do was block magic, but to feel my magic, my spirit, which in normal situations was always overflowing, stomped down to some pinprick, barely there dot in my middle was the worst suffering I'd ever felt. In that situation, I'd welcome gunshots, I'd beg for demons, for a vampire to just eat me and put me out of my misery. It was worse, even, than being covered in running water, because at least then I could still feel my magic, still know it was there, I just couldn't touch it, but right now I could hardly feel it, it was barely a tickle, and I wanted to scream. The knife pressed a little harder into my throat as the one holding it tensed up, and then it felt it pull away. The cuffs were undone, and I was finally able to hear what was going on again.

"_So voted and so done. Wizard Dresden will not be given to the vampires, but will, instead, be expected to retrieve the Shroud of Turin without assistance. If he does not, his life will be forfeit to the Red Court," _the Merlin said, sounding particularly depressed that he wouldn't get to see my head roll that day, or even feed me to a vampire. I looked over at Morgan as the Merlin called the meeting to a close and could tell he shared the sentiment, but I just grinned and waved at him before I walked over to him and snatched my things back. I'd just gotten the last ring on my finger when I got back over to Ebenezer, and I smiled at him as we left the hotel. The Red Queen wouldn't be getting my head today.

"I'm startin' to wonder if you can ever go to one of these meetings and not just about lose your head, Hoss," Ebenezer said, a little smile on his face, and I returned it.

"I am too, sir, but this isn't anywhere near as bad as the usual stuff I'm into. No death defying situations, this time, I've just got to get a shroud from a mob boss, which I was planning to do anyway. I get paid, the council doesn't get to kill me just yet, and all's happiness and rainbows with the world." Ebenezer laughed as we walked back out to his truck, but the ride was mostly silent until we reached my apartment.

"Hoss, that man inside there is Marcone, isn't he? That's what you called him when we were leaving, and I'm pretty damn sure he isn't his brother." I nodded.

"Yeah, that's the kingpin himself, but I'm not in his pocket. I met him at a gala last night, since I had some information that the Shroud would be there, and he threatened me into working for him."

"The way you were talking to him, you don't seem too threatened. You invited him out to lunch."

"I'm trying to keep him happy, sir. He's not acting like he normally would, really, he's too overt, and he'll be friendly one second and ready to kill the next. I think he might be possessed by something, and I'm hoping I can take care of that while I'm getting my hands on the Shroud." Ebenezer nodded, and I felt proud that I was able to actually voice the reason with him, where all I'd been able to do to the me in my head was tell it to shut up.

"Have you felt anything on him? Anything malevolent?"

"No, but there are things that can hide from a wizard." Ebenezer hummed.

"That's true, but there's nothing that can hide from the Sight. Have you tried checking him with that?"

"To be honest I haven't wanted to risk it. I don't know what I'll see on him."

"Nothing worse than what you'd see on any other vanilla mortal, Hoss. Unless he is possessed, in which case you might want to get to work on fixing him. Be sure to make sure something hasn't made him a thrall too."

"Yeah, I will. Thank you for the ride, sir, and the help in the meeting today."

"No problem, Hoss. Give me a call if you ever need me, alright?" I nodded and walked down the few steps that led to my door, which I opened up and went through.

Inside, Marcone and Gard sat on my couch with my cat sprawled out over the both of them. Gard was scratching at that one place by his ear and Marcone had found the one at the base of his tail. I couldn't help but smile and think they'd have a hard time getting rid of him if they could make him happy enough he didn't jump up and shoulder check me as soon as I walked in.

"Well, I'm glad you both made yourselves at home," I said, my arms crossed, and Gard smiled.

"I finished packing your things for you, Harry," she said, and yeah, I saw the pile of boxes on the floor and the suitcase. Did I really only have one suitcase's worth of clothes? Damn, maybe Murphy was right and I did need to go shopping. Maybe I could have them drop me off at a thrift store or something on the way back to Marcone's place.

"Uh… thanks, I guess. Did, um, is that all my clothes?" Gard quirked an eyebrow up me and looked like she thought I was an idiot. So I didn't know how many pieces of clothing I had. Sue me.

"I believe so. You keep it all in the drawers, don't you? The ones in front of your bed. You've not got very much, do you?"

"Yeah, that's where I keep it, and no, I guess I don't. All the stuff's cleared out of the lab too, right? Besides my circle I mean."

"Yes, and I put that skull of yours in a small box of its own, so it won't be broken. That's where your spirit lives, isn't it?"

"Usually. He stays in Mister sometimes too, but that's sort of beside the point. I guess we're done, then. I won't need anything else that's here right away, so I guess it can stay until I come back, as long as I lock the door. Well, let's go, I'm starving and a glass of Mac's Ale would be really good right now." Marcone smiled at me, a real smile, one like I'd never seen on his face before. Not the fatherly one, the one that, upon first seeing it, had reminded me of my own father and made me want to trust him, but the sort someone gives when they're actually, fully happy. Maybe he'd chatted with Bob for a while, maybe Marcone had gotten the silly spirit to see that he wasn't into me, but him, and Bob had realized he'd been flirting with Marcone all yesterday evening. I always had been good at telling when two people liked each other.

"You had plenty of options for wine last night and you wanted a coke," the mob boss said, and I grinned. Hell, if he was happy and the possession wasn't fucking with him at the moment, I'd do my best to keep him that way.

"I hate wine. I hate most alcohol, actually, but it's like a crime to dislike Mac's Ale. Of course, if I'd just gotten back from that damned meeting when I went to that gala, I would've probably made an exception for the wine. Those things make you want to drink."

"And why's that?" Marcone asked, and I smirked.

"The usual reasons. I got checked for black magic, found out the vampires still want to eat me, got trussed up and nearly got my head cut off and/or got given to said vampires that want to eat me, and just barely got by. Happens every time I go to those meetings."

"Every time?" Gard asked, her arms crossed as we walked out. Marcone was hiding how upset he was easily and well, and honestly, if I hadn't known him as long as I had, hadn't seen his soul, then I probably wouldn't be able to tell either. I shrugged and crossed my own arms.

"Yup. They always manage to dig out something they think I did or that I did do that maybe bends the Laws a little. The Merlin is pretty much positive I'm a warlock, and he's got a Warden on his side, so it's pretty hard for me to go to those without threat of being beheaded. That's why I usually skip them, but apparently now that's going to get me killed too. I know they always talk about how wizards have a long lifespan, and we do, but at this rate I'm not even going to make it to thirty."

"I had assumed you'd already reached that age, Harry. Weren't you twenty-six when we met? We've known each other for four years," Marcone said, coming up to open the door and help me into the car, which, as much as I hated it, I was getting used to.

"Nah, I'm twenty-nine. I'll hit thirty next month."

"What's so pressing that you feel you'll die so soon?"

"I just said. I'm about to be given to the Red Court, and I've got no chance of getting out of that one, especially not if I'm a gift from the council," I said, a plan forming in my head. As far as I knew, Marcone had no idea that I knew he had the Shroud. Maybe in his possessed state he'd be willing to give it to me if he knew it'd save my life. He did seem a little more caring towards me with that whatever it was that had him in control.

"I wouldn't have thought any council of yours would be so willing to have one of their own given as a sacrificial lamb," Marcone said, his voice stiff, and I shrugged again as the car started to move.

"They used to do it all the time. One wizard lost to a dragon or a Fae or anything else to allow passage of all the rest through said thing's part of the Nevernever was seen as a pretty small price to pay. It's fallen out of fashion, recently, since there hasn't really been a need for it, but with the Red Court up in arms it doesn't seem like too big of a loss, especially since not many council members like me anyway. And hell, they don't even need me to be a virgin if they give me to the vampires like they would if they wanted me to go to a dragon."

"If they despise you so, why are you still involved with them?"

"Because any practicing practitioner not involved with the council is automatically seen as a warlock and executed, unless they can prove they had no knowledge of council when they started practicing. The ones that can are made apprentices; the ones that can but are under suspicion are made apprentices and put under the Doom, and the ones that can't die. I think you can guess which category I'd fall under."

"Yes, I believe I can. Is there any way to avoid you being given to the Red Court?"

"I've got to find the Shroud of Turin and return it, without assistance from the council." Marcone hummed and nodded.

"I can help with that, I think. The Shroud is in my possession at the moment, and is the artifact I've been planning to have you check. I assume I can question you about it now, though, at least the most important thing."

"Go ahead."

"Can it revive someone who has been in a vegetative state?"

"I don't know," I said, and I was telling the truth, "It's never been tested, since the Vatican hasn't wanted it examined by many people, especially not people claiming to be wizards. Its history suggests it can, but artifacts like that are tricky. It definitely has some magic to it, but whether or not that magic just relates to the faith people have in it or if it can really do what it did in the story is up for debate."

"Ah. Three days from tomorrow, then, and I'll give it to you. That council of yours won't have you killed that quickly, will they?"

"Probably not. They usually give me a deadline of about a month before they start sending my old Warden after me."

"Alright. I've no need for you to check it over for me now, then, since you don't know the answer to the only real question I have. Could you answer a few other things for me now, things about your council?"

"Why not? They won't like me talking to a vanilla mortal about it, but hell, I feel like pissing them off."

"What is the Doom you mentioned earlier?"

"It's the Doom of Damocles. It's kind of like magical probation, and it's pretty much the only punishment they give besides death. I was under it for about ten years or so, but it was removed from me a little after I met you."

"I assume you were placed under it for reasons pertaining to why this Merlin believes you to be a warlock, correct?"

"Yeah, but you honestly don't need to know the particulars behind that."

"Well, whatever it was happened when you were sixteen, right? That would be how old you were by the numbers you've given."

"Don't worry, Marcone, I was sixteen, but I was hardly a child by that point. Don't get all pissy over that."

"A person is a child until the day they turn eighteen, Harry. It doesn't matter what they've done." I gave a bitter smile, one I had no idea why I was showing, because even Murphy and Michael hardly ever saw that expression, and McCoy only on particularly bad days. Marcone didn't need to see any weakness from me.

"Whatever, Marcone. I know you didn't just want to ask about the Doom, did you?"

"You're correct. You said that they usually give you a deadline of about a month. Has a situation like this occurred before?"

"Pretty often, actually. They find something they need done, and figure it's a good way to hit two birds with one stone. The way they see it, I'll succeed and they'll have what they wanted, I'll die trying and they lose a problem and send an equipped team of Wardens out to do whatever task it was, or I'll just refuse to do it or won't get it done in time and get executed. Add in there being a 2/3 shot of me ending up dead and they go for it every time."

"And what sort of things do they normally have you do?"

"Well, as clichéd as it sounds, I had to steal some gold from a dragon, once. I was mostly lucky it wasn't an old one, I guess, because then I definitely would've died. I couldn't survive a battle with an ancient dragon even now, honestly, but I could probably go toe to toe with one a few hundred years older than the one I fought then now, I think, but I wouldn't be able to kill it. I could actually kill that one now though, if I wanted to. It didn't get too pissed at me when I left back then, so I probably won't have to, but still. Anyway, I've also had to secure passage through a particularly violent Fae's part of the Nevernever, hunt down a time charm some warlock managed to hide away before the Warden's got him, and play servant to a really demanding centaur."

"How in the world did you manage to be subservient to anything?" Marcone asked with a soft laugh, and I rolled my eyes.

"The threat of having your head chopped off can make a guy do some crazy stuff. Besides, centaurs are close to the Fae, and Fae have some pretty screwed up punishments. I'd prefer listening to that thing over being hung up by my ears and getting pelted with god knows what, same with getting whipped."

"Whipped?"

"Yeah, the Fae are a sadistic bunch. Centaurs usually aren't, since they're connected with the Summer Court rather than the Winter Court, but I wouldn't have put it passed that one. I'm honestly a little surprised that my godmother has never tried that particular brand of punishment on me, but I guess she thinks the threat of getting turned into a dog is enough to make me behave." Marcone nodded again, a little flash of anger in his eyes, and I wondered what the hell was pissing him off this time.

"And this Warden you mentioned, who is he?"

"Warden Morgan. He's the one who was responsible for me when the Doom got put over me. After I left Missouri I couldn't go anywhere without him following after me, and he's carried a grudge ever since the Doom was removed, even though he's the one that helped take it off."

"How did he do that?"

"We met because you didn't want me involved in a case, remember? The guy behind that case was holed up in a house, and I ended up setting it on fire so his little scorpion things couldn't get at me. Morgan was the one who got me out of said fire and ended up giving me mouth to mouth. After that, he testified on my behalf in the trial. If not for him, I probably would've been found guilty for those murders."

"They suspected you of killing those people?"

"Yeah, they did. I was apparently the only one in the area with enough fire power behind them to be capable of it, but they weren't accounting for the fact that a wizard can use a storm when casting and do some ridiculously hard stuff."

"Is that so? You mentioned that all those who practiced magic and were not involved with this council were put on trial. Why has Gard not been subjected to this? Her use of magic is public knowledge, similar to yours."

"Gard's a Valkyrie. The Rule of the council only applies to mortal practitioners, and long life or no, I'm still mortal. Gard isn't."

"Quite true, Harry. We have arrived at this, Mac's, Harry, Mr. Marcone," Gard said, and I could feel my mouth start to water immediately. Steak! Steak and Ale! I jumped out of the car and ran inside, hardly even bothering to notice Gard and Marcone laughing at me as they, too, entered.

Once inside, I could feel all the arrangements of thirteen pleasantly disrupting my magic, allowing it to spread around the room instead of cover me like it usually did. My magic, though, only added to the tingle already in the air caused by all the other practitioners in the room, mostly small timers who could ignore council meetings without threat of death. Lucky asses.

I stopped by the bar to put in my order, and Mac gave me his usual grunt of greeting. Marcone and Gard didn't get that courtesy though, and instead Mac just stared sharply at them. I didn't question why, honestly. They were both dressed in a nice suit, too nice for his usual patrons, who were mostly of about my economic status, i.e. dirt broke. They both held themselves a little higher than anyone else in the place, had more calculating eyes, and hell, the simple fact that Marcone was a normal human probably had a few of them guessing. I smiled over to Mac, trying to convey that both of them were fine, and I guess he got it because he grunted at them both and took their orders without any more suspicion. I then led them to the table that may as well have been reserved for me, since it was nearly always empty when I came in, and sat, returning the waves from the few regulars that recognized me and weren't scared to associate with me. Marcone glared at every last one of them and I sighed. As soon as the shroud was in my hands, I'd really have to fix whatever was going on with him. I didn't think I'd be able to stand this weird attitude of his much longer anyway.

"How do you stand this place, Harry?" Gard asked quietly as she ran one hand through her thick, blonde hair. "It feels so… it's as though it chops you up," she said.

"That's the point, kind of. This is neutral territory, usually used for meetings between two parties to hammer out details to some sensitive subject. It's arranged by thirteens so it disrupts magical flow and reduces the risk of someone getting hurt. It's pretty comfortable for me, but I guess it would be bad for you, since you're nonhuman. We can get the food to go and eat somewhere else, if you want. Mac won't mind, he does that for me a lot. He's even delivered a few times."

"I… no, it's alright. It seems to be getting better as I get used to the feeling. I suppose it's a bit like cold water, yes? It actually is quite comfortable, to have the weight of magic dispersed a bit." I wasn't quite sure, but I nodded anyway.

"Alright. If you get uncomfortable, though, just say so and we can leave. I'm not all that invested in eating inside the place anyway, but this is the nicest place I can afford and I felt bad for making you both wait in my apartment for so long. Anyway, looks like our food's ready, come on."

"I believe the waiter does that, Harry," Marcone said with a sigh, one brow cocked up.

"Have you seen a waiter anywhere? Mac's a firm believer that people can get up and get their food themselves, so come on. I'm paying, so I'm not carrying your food for you too." He, his eyebrow still quirked up, nodded and stood. We walked to the counter together and picked everything up, but Gard and Marcone went back to the table before me. "Looks good, Mac." He grunted, and I smiled. "Thanks for letting those two in, by the way. I know you usually don't like people you haven't seen before coming in here."

"You vouched for them. They cause trouble, it's on you. And I'll cut your tab off." I laughed and nodded as I walked back to the table, my beer and place balanced precariously in my hands. I hardly got them there without dropping them, but I made it and started to cut the large hunk of meat on my plate up as soon as I sat. Marcone and Gard stared amusedly.

"You're quite the caveman, Harry." I grunted.

"Harry like meat. Meat good." The two laughed, and Gard sipped the Ale she'd ordered. Her eyes widened.

"This is nearly as good as that which the ancients drank! And served warm!" I nodded, a little proud even though I had nothing to do with brewing it.

"Yup. It's pretty much sacrilege to serve Mac's brew cold. No one that comes here does it." Marcone sipped his own, and the look on his face was hilarious.

"It's quite… strong, to say the least."

"Americans," I said with a grin, and took a hearty gulp. The strong taste and pleasant burn allowed the memories of the meeting, the throbbing, aching pain of the manacles, to drift off and I shoved a hunk of the steak into my mouth. It was heavy with smoke, like it always was, and I smiled happily. Mac's food tasted like home, like things my father had made once upon a time, like the stuff Ebenezer had always made. I didn't have money or the capability to make such things at home, either, so coming here was always happy for me.

"Perhaps I should've been bribing you with food this whole time, Harry. You seem to be far more receptive to it than you are to money."

"Shut up," I said, my mouth full, and Marcone laughed again. He, Gard, and I chatted amiably until someone walked up to the table. He was of average height and a brunette with brown eyes. Pretty plain, appearance wise, but I could feel the magic tingling on his skin. He wasn't a heavy hitter, really, but he wasn't a light weight either, and for all his plainness I could tell he was pretty young, maybe nineteen at the oldest.

"I… um… I… are you, uh, are you Harry Dresden?"

"Depends whose asking, I guess. If you're asking so a vampire can eat me, a Fae can take me captive in some way, or for any other nefarious purposes, then no, my name's Donald Morgan and Harry Dresden is the Warden that uses my name. Otherwise, yeah, I'm Harry, what do you need?"

"Oh, um, I'm not here for any of that bad stuff. I just, uh, I got a letter a few weeks ago, from the White Council and all, and it said I was strong enough to become a full-fledged wizard! I've got to be an apprentice first though, and I'm sure you know that, because you had to have been one too at some point even though you're really strong and all, but I was wondering if you would maybe consider taking me on as your apprentice. I know you've probably got tons of people asking and they're probably a lot stronger than me, but I'd be really happy if you'd just consider it, please!" Though the kid was babbling, it was pretty easy to grasp what he wanted, and I was surprised I wasn't gaping by the end of it. No one had ever asked to be my apprentice before, and I hadn't thought anyone ever would, really, not with my reputation. I figured this kid was only asking because I was the only full-fledged wizard he knew of, so I took the compliment with a grain of salt.

"I don't think that's a very good idea for you, uh… what's your name?"

"My name's Johnny, and I think it's a great idea! There's no one else I'd rather be apprenticed to!" Well, he'd gotten really confident really fast.

"No, it's not. Anyone apprenticed to me would be automatically distrusted in the council because of my history. I was tried as a warlock, and no new wizard needs that history tied to him."

"But you aren't a warlock! Your magic feels just like mine," he said, his arms crossed in a way that drew attention to how young he really was. Though they shared a name, he really didn't resemble the other John in the room in any way other than maybe stubbornness.

"You can't judge whether or not someone's a warlock that way. Magic feels the same on everyone. It doesn't feel black or white until it's loosed in a spell, because that's the point that the magic is corrupted and turns black. Magic is meant to be used for creation, always."

"How could they think you were a warlock, if you think that way? Please, please teach me!" I sighed.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," he said proudly, and I ran a hand through my hair.

"Look, you're still young. Younger than I thought you were, actually. You've got a lot of time to find a master. I'll give you the names of some other wizards around here, yeah? Check them out, and if you're still dead set and determined that you want me to teach you then here's the address of my office. You can find me there from nine A.M. to ten P.M., alright?" I said as I scribbled some names and addresses on a napkin, along with the address to my office. He took it, but he didn't look all that happy.

"I'm not that young, not for apprenticeship. How old were you when you got your master?"

"I was ten, when I got my first, but I got another at sixteen." He gasped.

"Justin DuMorne was your first, right? The one you… the one you killed?" Marcone's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Gard remained impassive.

"Shit," I cursed softly, and Johnny gasped again.

"Sorry! They didn't know that, did they? I'm so, so sorry, please don't hate me for that! Please, please keep considering me for apprenticeship!" I sighed.

"It's alright, Johnny, calm down. That guy there was asking about something relating to that in the car earlier, and I'm not good at keeping my mouth shut for long anyway. Yeah, though, I killed DuMorne. If you know that, why in the world do you want me to be your teacher?"

"Because Justin DuMorne was a warlock, and you defeated him when you were so young! That makes you, like, a legend!"

"How did I do anything amazing? I had help from my godmother, you know, and even then all I was able to do was burn the house. It can't even be confirmed for sure that he's dead, since the cops never found any bones in the damned house."

"Wouldn't that mean he's definitely not dead then, Harry?" Gard asked, a small smile on her face, and Johnny looked afraid until I shook my head.

"No. The blaze was too hot, that's all. There may have been bones or there may not have been. I haven't heard from him since, though, so I've always assumed he was dead. He has to be. There's no way in the world he wouldn't have come after me by now, if he was alive. His ego wouldn't have been able to take being beaten by a sixteen year old, especially not after he failed to make me a thrall." I know I must've sounded at least a little like I was trying to convince myself, too, but I really do believe what I said, and even if I'm wrong, I've got no doubt that I could still beat DuMorne. Hell, I'd probably take a little pleasure in facing him one on one after all he did to me.

"But you still beat him either way, Mr. Dresden! You faced off against a really strong warlock when you were sixteen and didn't die or become his servant. You were even able to resist becoming a thrall! You're the strongest wizard I've ever heard of! I've heard stories that you could even beat the Merlin, if you wanted to!" I was recently finding out that apparently a lot more people talked about me than I knew, if I took into account this kid and Gard's words the previous night.

"People exaggerate, a lot. I can hardly fight a Warden, much less the Merlin himself. He could have me in a body bag before I managed to say fuego." He suddenly bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.

"That's your signature spell, right? A fire spell! I want to learn that first!"

"Uh… if you don't find someone else you want to teach you, sure. Evocation's pretty hard, though. I can hardly manage it even with foci. Some of the ones on that list are a lot better than me at it. A couple of them can even perform an evocation without foci and not blow up the whole damned room, like I would." He finally looked down at his feet and sighed.

"I know what this is. You don't have to be so nice about it, Mr. Dresden. You're just holding out for someone stronger than me, right? I know I'm not a powerhouse, not like you are." I shook my head rapidly.

"No! No, if after you visit all of them you still think I'm the best option for you, I've got no problem teaching you. Besides, it doesn't matter that you're not a powerhouse. Having a lot of power doesn't mean all that much, honestly. You see this woman here? She's a Valkyrie. I've got deeper magic reserves than she does, and if I had to guess I'd say that my evocations would pack more of a punch than hers, but she could still kick my ass from here to Sunday with her eyes closed. You can easily make up for having less power than your opponent by having better focus, and besides, I can tell from here you're no light weight."

"Really?" he asked, and he seemed a little shocked.

"Yeah, you fall in the high area of middle on the magic scale. You're no heavy hitter, but once you learn, you're going to be able to hold your own pretty well."

"Thanks! Anyway, how do you know a Valkyrie?" he asked, taking a seat by Marcone. I smirked a little. The kid was trying to ingratiate himself to me, make me take him on before he asked the other guys. Clever trick, not one that would work, but clever. I figured I could indulge him for a little while, although Marcone was getting steadily more pissed by the second. I guess he didn't appreciate having his lunch interrupted.

"She works for that guy sitting beside you."

"Oh. Do you, um, work for him too?"

"Temporarily, I guess."

"Who, uh, who is he?" Marcone smirked, his eyes narrowed, and I glared at him. If he scared the damned kid, I'd… I don't know, burn his suits, threats be damned.

"You don't recognize me?"

"Nope. I don't feel magic on you, either, not like Mr. Dresden and the woman there. You're a plain mortal."

"Well, Harry usually uses the term 'vanilla mortal', but yes, I suppose you're correct. I've no magical ability, which is why I have the two of them in my employ. My name is John Marcone."

"The… the mobster, John Marcone? Gentleman Johnny?" he reeled back, closer to me, and Marcone's eyes narrowed even more, until I could hardly see the money green.

"Yes, although I've never really enjoyed that particular moniker. I suppose the papers only use it because it sounds dramatic, perhaps like a bit of the old Hollywood style gangsters."

"Marcone, you're nearly begging me to make a Godfather joke, now. I hope you know that."

"I'm afraid I do. I'm honestly surprised you've never made one before, Harry."

"It's cheesy and in bad taste."

"And you always care about that when you make your jokes."

"I do every now and then. Michael doesn't think so, though. He hardly ever laughs at my jokes. Probably because most of the good ones I know are dirty, and he's, you know, Catholic and all that. Fist of God, yadda yadda yadda. He even yells at me when I curse," I said, knowing I was rambling a little, but it seemed to be making both the Johns calm down.

"Mr. Dresden… you can't be working for him! You're a good guy, and he's… not." I shrugged.

"There are some extenuating circumstances. Call me Harry, by the way. If you do end up becoming my apprentice I'll just get annoyed if I have to hear Mr. Dresden all the time."

"That's too familiar! Isn't there anything in between I could call you?"

"Well, my middle names are pretty cool, but I'm not in the habit of giving those out. Just call me Harry, I don't mind. Hell's Bells, if I let Marcone call me by my first name I can definitely let you do it."

"If I recall, you used to yell at me for it," Marcone said with a smirk.

"I gave up. You do it whether I tell you not to or not, so I may as well not waste my breath."

"I've noticed you've stopped calling me by my first name as well, Harry. Have you lost your desire to upset me at every turn?" I shrugged.

"Never, Marcone, but you're calling me by my first name. If I did the same thing it'd seem like we were friends or something, and I sure as hell don't want any more rumors that I'm in some scumbag's pocket. The SI Unit's already gotten more wary about hiring me, and I need that cash flow."

"And why's that, Harry? You're one of mine, and I take care of my own."

"I'm not yours, Marcone. You know damn well why I'm working for you right now, but I'm not bringing it up in here. Stars, I've been trying to stay civil, and so far you've been making it pretty easy. Don't screw that up in a restaurant." Johnny suddenly spoke up.

"Um… if I was Harry's apprentice, would I be one of yours too?"

"Only if you wished to be. I've no need for another magic user, but I don't deny those that wish to be a part of my organization unless they seem to be infiltrators from one who wishes to take me down."

"Then I'll definitely be back, Harry, since I won't have to associate with him! I'll check out all of these guys right now, and I'll be at your office tomorrow! I've got money, by the way, so… so if that's why you're working for him you don't have to. I'll pay for you, until your business picks back up."

"Uh… thanks, I guess, but that's not what the extenuating circumstances are. I get by alright, money-wise. I pay for food for me and my cat, I keep the rent mostly up to date, I already own my car, all that."

"And yet you haven't got hot water," Marcone said with a yawn and a smirk.

"That's for the same reason I don't use the elevator or have electricity, Marcone. I'd just blow it out. New as your car is, I'm surprised I haven't caused it to break down on the side of the road yet."

"Gard charmed it for me. It won't hold out if you get too… emotional, but she has assured me that it will be fine as long as you are in a normal state of mind."

"You have a cat?" Johnny asked suddenly, and I couldn't help but feel like he was trying to keep my attention on him. I knew that was a little silly, but still.

"Yeah, I do. His name's Mister. I guess we're going back to my apartment to pick him up before we head to Marcone's place again."

"You're living with him?" Johnny's voice was a little disgusted, and I shrugged.

"Haven't got much choice, and besides, he hasn't said he was going to kill me or sacrifice my blood for immense power or anything. That's honestly a lot better than what I get from most people when I visit their house. I guess Billy's fine, I've stayed with him a couple of times, when the exterminator comes to my place."

"So! He's still… he's still him. Come stay with me, I live alone!"

"Hush, boy. You know not what you say," Gard hissed suddenly, seconds after she glanced at her boss.

"Yeah, I do! I'm going to be his apprentice!" Marcone's gaze narrowed again, and where he'd seemed to be calming down a few seconds ago, now he was clenching his glass tightly enough I was worried he'd shatter it. This was getting out of hand, and it was doing it quickly. I needed to check what had Marcone right now, since it seemed to be getting more and more control, so I opened up my Sight. What I saw shocked me.

There was a sickly green aura over him, one with red splotches, and there were heavy black stripes on all his visible skin. It seemed he wasn't just a tiger in his soul, but a tiger through and through. That aura, though… I had no idea what it meant. There were no demons I knew of that manifested themselves in that way, or even spirits, but there had to be something… I shut the Sight quickly, to avoid anything else coming into my view. I'd ask Bob about it tomorrow.

"Did you just open your Sight? Show me how!" Johnny said, and suddenly his hands were wrapped around one of mine. I felt Marcone's gaze on us, sharp and angry. Whatever the hell it was that had him was definitely getting stronger, and more easily annoyed, since his periods of friendliness and kindness were getting smaller, and his periods of anger were getting more volatile.

"Not, uh, not now. You're not my apprentice yet, and you might not want to be. Go, now, alright? You'll need to start checking those guys out now, if you want to be done tomorrow, and I won't take you on if I don't believe you've checked all of them out." He nodded once, too serious for someone as young as he was, and left the restaurant, the napkin gripped tightly in his hand. Marcone looked to be calming down immediately, and I wondered what it was about the kid that Marcone didn't like. The simple fact that he was a kid should've meant Marcone had no problem with him, even made him want to take care of him or something, but that was certainly not how the mob boss was acting. Whatever it was, Gard seemed to understand. Did she know about the nature of the possession? Perhaps Marcone had had it done on purpose, to get rid of his weakness to kids. That didn't matter, though. I'd remove whatever the hell it was either way, because even if Marcone had done it on purpose, there was still a decent chance it'd kill him if I didn't do something. And as bad as Marcone was, I realized he was a necessary evil, and one I didn't want dead.

That thought came as a shock. I didn't want Marcone dead. After all he'd done, all he'd still do, I wanted him to live. I'd be sad if he was suddenly gone. There was suddenly an annoyingly Marcone shaped hole in my heart that would be achingly empty if he died. Fuck me.

"Marcone, what the hell's wrong with you? Calm down, stars."

"I do not think he will be able to follow your command this time, Harry. Have you finished eating?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Then go pay, please. I'll take Mr. Marcone back to the car. Here's money, if you haven't got enough."

"I've got plenty," I said, turning down the stack of bills she attempted to hand me. I had just enough, actually. The bill would be about $49.50. She sighed, a little annoyed with me, and took the still glaring Marcone by the arm to lead him out. They got more than a few stares on the way, and I did too when I reached the counter.

"Here you go, Mac," I said, handing him the fifty dollar note I'd tucked into my robe before I left my apartment. He grunted, rung me up, and handed me back fifty cents. I really needed a new job. I left the restaurant and, for the first time since Marcone got me working for him, I was able to get into the damned car myself. I didn't bother to question why I still got into the back with Marcone.

* * *

Gard's POV

My boss is an idiot. I will admit that freely, in my head, for he has no way of knowing and there is no risk of me losing my job. I don't think Hendricks is even brave enough to say such things when Marcone cannot hear; he is so devoted to the man. Either way, when I took this job I had no idea I would be drawn straight into some sort of love-drama between my boss and an abnormally tall, lanky wizard. It's certainly not what I signed up for, and I am positive that there was no clause in my contract stating I'd have to play matchmaker for them.

I suppose I haven't got much of a problem with it, really, but the wizard is so damnably thick-skulled it's pathetic. He is worse than Thor, the son of mighty Odin, and perhaps more troublesome too. I must say, however, that the nature of my boss' feelings for the infuriating man remind me quite a lot of my old world, my original time of Gods and fierce battles. They're possessive feelings, a longing for ownership, not unlike that which the Vikings showed for their lovers. It's fun to reminisce, when I look at the way Marcone stares at him, as though he wants to grab him and lock him away from the rest of the world. Then I look at the wizard himself and I see obliviousness, not willful, but there naturally, like an aura.

He doesn't see not because he doesn't want to, but because he simply can't. He's like a girl, almost, and a very young one at that, one who has never had experience with someone liking her. I knew he had, though, because of the woman, Susan. I knew not if he'd ever had another, but obviously the woman had cared for him, and still did. I supposed it was different for mortals, to recognize such things from one of the same gender, but it truly was getting pathetic. I knew of little else Mr. Marcone could do to make his intentions known, besides stamp his name on the damned silly wizard's back. Come to think of it, that might be necessary, if this went on much longer. I wondered if there was anything I could do.

Upon thinking back, I had played matchmaker before, between two men. We'd been on a ship for ages, and the two danced around each other in most annoying ways. One, the one being pursued, would attack his pursuer with friendship, brotherly affection, and the pursuer would grow so very frustrated. It had been funny, at first, until it reached the same level this current situation had. In that case, the key had been simple. I merely had the pursued see his pursuer's strength in battle, see that it surpassed his, so he would not feel as though he were betraying his own strength if he were on the bottom in a relationship. Then all I'd had to do was force him to see his pursuer's feelings and they'd been in bed together by nightfall. This time, it would not be so easy. I sighed and pulled to a stop in front of Harry's ramshackle boardinghouse apartment, allowing the wizard to get out and grab his cat, who sat happily across his lap once he got back into the car. Marcone started petting the animal alongside Dresden as we pulled off again, heading towards Marcone's mansion instead.

Mr. Marcone did indeed easily surpass Dresden in physical strength (although I was quite sure a twig did as well), but Dresden could obviously hold his own in a fight against Marcone due to his magic. They were equals in battle, and I knew that if ever they fought, the winner would be decided by outside sources, by who had the better companions to fight at their side. Marcone could pin Dresden down in an instant, but Dresden would only proceed to blow him away, whether with his rings or a spell. I could tell just by looking at the lanky wizard that he felt he'd been pinned down too much, that he'd been beaten by too many people, that he longed to be the stronger in any fight because of it. I sighed quietly, too quietly for the two in the back of the car to hear. If Harry were to be put on his belly, it'd have to be by his own choice, and therein, I supposed, lay the issue.

Marcone would have to be the dominant one of the pair, I knew, he wouldn't allow anything else. He was ancient in his views, and he felt Harry was better suited to the submissive position. I couldn't say I disagreed, considering how mouthy he was. I could see how he appealed to Marcone; how he obviously wanted to make him obey in a way he wouldn't with anyone else. But Harry wouldn't want to obey; it'd be a fight to the end, probably. How even could I start? Normally I'd have Marcone prove he could protect and provide for Harry, but that had already been done. Harry had as good as admitted Marcone could protect him earlier in the day, and Marcone's money and influence had been shown to him countless times.

So, what would I usually try next? There had been situations between men and women in which the woman had not been swayed by any amazing feat her suitor managed. I supposed Harry could have been similar to them. What was it that they had wanted, then? Romantic gestures! Yes, that was it! Perhaps that was what the damnable wizard was holding out for! Roses and candlelight, and all those silly little things. I pulled into the driveway and parked the car by the door, allowing the two to get out as I pulled the car around to the garage. I'd tell Marcone how to trip his wizard into bed the next time I spoke with him alone.

* * *

Harry's POV

I got out of the car, Mister cradled against my chest and shoulder and my one suitcase in my free hand, and walked into the house. Marcone followed just behind me with the boxes that held my lab equipment, which he sat by the basement door.

"Gard will take them down to her lab when she arrives. If ever you need to use it you may ask her, and if you're unhappy with hers I can have a personal one built for you."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Marcone. Hey, think you can take me back to my room? I've got no idea where it is."

"Certainly," Marcone said, smiling softly, as he led me up the stairs and down to a hallway I mostly recognized as the one my room was on. I let Mister down in front of my door and walked in, immediately kicking off my shoes and attempting to pull out of the robe, my back to Marcone. A soft choking noise came from his direction and I whipped around.

"Oh, shit, sorry," I said, but I didn't see where that did much good, seeing as how the robe was already around my ankles. Poor Marcone had to be assaulted with my Superman boxers, the horror! "I don't stay at many people's house besides my own, and most of them don't really mind if I change in front of them."

"Who in the world do you stay with?" Marcone said, a quiet cough at the end of the words, and he didn't look away, so I guess he was getting used to it.

"Michael, sometimes, when Charity will let me, and if she won't Billy and the other werewolves usually let me stay with them for a while," I shrugged, kicking the robe off my ankles and bending over so I could open the suitcase and pull out a t-shirt and jeans. My duster, which had obviously been folded with far more care than anything else in the suitcase, was removed and placed on the dresser for easy access.

"Billy's the one who was with you when you broke onto this property during the loup-garou incident, isn't he?"

"Yup," I said, pulling the jeans up my hips and buttoning them. They hung loosely, like all my clothes, and only stayed up because of my hip bones. I needed to buy a belt. Yeah, my inner me said, with that fifty cents you've got. I told him to shut up again and tossed the t-shirt on. Marcone hummed and stepped inside the room, Mister just behind him, and sat on my bed. Mister jumped up right after him and sprawled across his lap. Traitor.

"Aren't they college students? It seems a bit hard to believe you'd get along well with them. By the way, when did you get shot, Harry?" he asked, gesturing to my shoulder. That was the one thing about me changing in front of people; they always wanted to ask about at least one of my scars. It was usually fine, as long as they didn't ask about one from DuMorne. I had to admit, though, his are some of the most interesting ones.

"Yeah, they are, but they're pretty much a group of nerds. I like them, we play role-playing games together. They let me be whatever's biggest every time. And for someone involved in the loup-garou thing, you don't know much about what happened. It's from an FBI Agent; she was a Hexenwolf and pretty much batshit crazy by that point. I was running from the cops, but still, she didn't have to shoot me. Hurt like hell for a while too, especially since I was nowhere near done with the werewolf stuff at that point, so I had to run around with the thing bleeding all over everything. I guess I was lucky Tera had bandages, otherwise it probably would've gotten infected or something."

"Tera?"

"Yeah, the really tan, dark haired woman I was with. I can't remember if you ever met her, or if you just saw her while she was a wolf or something, but my best guess was she was something from the Nevernever, a wolf that could turn human. I never figured it out, and I haven't seen her since, but she was the one who formed the Alphas. That's Billy's group of werewolves, by the way. Tera was the loup-garou's fiancé. She wanted me to make a holding circle for him, but I couldn't get it done in time. She'd asked Kim Delaney first, a woman I was training a little, and she ended up dead because I didn't tell her enough about it. I didn't want her involved in anything that circle could've been used for, but I should've known she wouldn't listen to me." Stars and stones, why was I telling Marcone so much? Was it babble to a mob boss about stuff that makes you guilty day? If so, that's a really shitty holiday, and I celebrate it in protest.

"It isn't your fault that she did not listen to you, Harry, and it's also not your fault you had to kill the damned thing. It would've killed you and everyone else there if you hadn't."

"He wasn't a thing, Marcone. He was a perfectly happy man with a beautiful fiancé. Besides, it gets tiring having the ultimatum of kill-or-be-killed. It really does… I'm not you, Marcone. I don't like having to take life, because that's not what magic is for. Ebenezer always told me that, every day. Magic should be used to make life, not death, because magic is, essentially, creation. Earth, Air, Water, Fire, and Spirit," I said, gesturing to each point on my mother's pentacle. Hell's bells, I needed to stop talking. I really, really needed to shut up, right now.

"Death is necessary, Harry. I would've thought you'd know that, after what we were informed happened with your old guardian. Would you mind explaining that a bit further, by the way?"

"Why the hell not? I'm talking too much right now anyway, I may as well say that too. Stars, you're probably one of the best people to tell about things like this anyway. You won't judge me for any of it, although I'm a little wary of giving you something to blackmail me with. I killed DuMorne because I had to. I'd been with him for six years and it was hell on earth the entire time. He beat the shit out of me, used those _goddamned _Thorn Manacles on me every day, and left all the teaching to Bob. All so he could weaken my mental state. That's why he got Elaine, too. So he could test thralls on her, work his way up to me. He was about to be able to do it, too. I… shit, I couldn't have held out much longer, so I called on Leansidhe. I made a deal with her, to have enough strength to kill him. I burned the whole fucking house down, with him in it. I… fuck, I burned Elaine too. I tried to get her out, to escape with her, but she was a thrall and all she'd do was sing DuMorne's praises, tell me how much fun black magic was, how nice it was to feel strong. I left her, and she burned with DuMorne. I _had _to kill them, but I'm still a murderer. I still broke the First Law," I said, suddenly hunching over, my hands in my hair, and I felt like I had at my trial. I didn't get comfort then, and I didn't expect it now, but I guess Marcone likes to be surprising.

I felt his hand across my back, broad enough to span the entire distance between my shoulder blades, and it patted there softly before it began to run up and down in a soft, soothing motion. I remembered when I was younger, how I always had nightmares, and my father had done this exact same thing. Oh, god. I missed him. I really, really missed him. I wondered, selfishly, what the hell I'd done to deserve the life I had, but I stomped the thoughts down.

"It's alright, Harry. You are right; you had no choice in it. You survived, isn't that all you could ask for? You cannot save everyone, and you certainly cannot save those who do not want to be saved, like that Elaine girl." I laughed, bitter, and I hadn't stopped my words quickly enough. It was all falling out, now, all the things only my closest friends knew, and Marcone really, really didn't need to, but I couldn't make myself be quiet.

"You don't get what a thrall is, Marcone. It's not like the normal definition, like when you just enthrall someone with wit or charm. It's coercion, it's going into someone's mind and making them do what you want. It's what a Red Court vampire makes you when you get enough of their spit on you. You're suddenly not you anymore; you're just a puppet, made for doing whatever your master says. It takes a long time to turn a thrall back to normal, unless the one who created the thrall releases it, even if the one who made them that way is dead. Elaine… she didn't have a choice. She was less than a slave." Marcone paused in his motion suddenly, but it picked up again a few seconds after.

"Less than a slave… that's what you said you would be, in your apartment, if you performed a Binding of Three. Is that a ceremony used to make someone a thrall?" I sniffed, wiped off tears I hadn't known I'd cried, and took a deep breath. Talking about magic, I could do that, and it'd help me calm down.

"Not exactly. Bob told you it was once used to bind masters to slaves, and that's because the Binding of Three isn't even a full binding, it's a half binding. The weaker party is connected to the stronger one for all eternity, bound to do whatever the stronger asks, but the stronger has no attachment to the weaker. The weaker could die and the stronger wouldn't feel a damned thing, but if something happened to the stronger, the weaker would be devastated, inconsolable. A lot of them were even found to have killed themselves if their master died. Eventually, that ceremony was banned by the council, and anyone caught performing it faces torture and death. Even DuMorne wasn't brave enough to try it."

"You used the terms stronger and weaker, yet you seemed to think you yourself would always end up being the weaker. Why is that?"

"Because the only things brave enough to still use that binding are things that aren't under the council's Rule, meaning immortal things or things from the Nevernever. I can face off against a lot of pretty powerful human warlocks and wizards, but put me up against stuff like that, chances are I'm coming out on the bottom. Even with Bob, actually. He may belong to me, but strength-wise… let's say that if I happened to piss him off and he wasn't bound, I'd be damned dead damned quick." A hiccup from the tears that hadn't quite stopped pulled itself from my throat, and I really felt like throwing Marcone out, but I had to admit that the feeling of his hand tracing gentle patterns down my spine was comforting.

"You've beaten things that are immortal, dolcezza, like the vampires."

"Beating something and being stronger than it are two different things. You stack my raw power up next to that of a vampire's, even one from the White Court, which is generally seen as the weakest Court, and I'm going to come up really, really short."

"You sell yourself short, Harry," he said, his voice oddly crooning as his hand continued its trailing path. I sat up and flopped backwards. Marcone laughed quietly and Mister jumped heavily on my chest. It didn't feel like a moment I could ever have with the mob boss, honestly. It felt more like something that would've happened with Susan, before she left me, or maybe even Michael on one of the nights we were away from Chicago on some insane quest.

"Maybe I do, but it doesn't make me less right. In the grand scheme, I'm weak. Hell, in the grand scheme, the Merlin himself is weak. Wizards are seen as amazing to mortals, but in the end, we're small-fries. The ancient dragons, and the Queens of Fairy, they're the real masters in all this. Maybe a few of the demons too, I guess, but most of them can't do much unless they're called." Marcone hummed and gently began tugging at me, shifting me so my head was in his lap. I was a little uncomfortable, yeah, but hell, when would I get another chance to say Gentleman Johnny Marcone petted my hair? And, oh shit, it felt really, really nice, like it had when he rubbed it after he shoved me into the car.

I'd never… no one ever touched me like that. Even Susan hadn't. A few comforting touches to my arm, maybe my shoulder, and never more. Bob had never been able to. Murphy… yeah, the day she comforts me will be the day my life really goes to hell. Michael tried, sometimes, but the touch was too personal for him, the sort of touch he reserved for his wife and kids. This was unique, this comfort Marcone was allowing me, and I knew there had to be a reason. Marcone didn't just stroke his employee's hair. If anyone ever saw him do it, I knew it would be 'bad for business', that it would lose him respect. He had to have an ulterior motive, but I was honestly too far gone to think about it.

"Harry, I know this will make you uncomfortable, but I still must ask. Will you tell me more about your time with DuMorne? Something more specific?"

"Why d'you wanna know so bad?" I mumbled, and, looking back on it now, I kind of wonder how I was possibly able to be such an idiot.

"Because I care about you, Harry, and obviously thinking of this man upsets you quite a lot. I believe you would feel better if you discussed it with me, and, as you said, I will certainly not judge your actions, and as for your concerns of blackmail, you're one of mine. I've no reason to do you wrong."

"Whatever. What d'you wanna know 'bout?" Yeah, apparently I get really tired and really pathetic really fast whenever someone pets my hair. Sue me.

"Whatever you wish to tell me, I suppose."

"Guess I could start from the beginning, yeah? The day DuMorne adopted me. I was… I was really happy. Someone wanted me again. No one at the orphanage liked me, because I was weird. I did… weird things. DuMorne said I was special, when he brought me to his house, and that first day he was really nice. He introduced me to Bob, said he'd be my tutor from now on, but he wasn't Bob then. He was just spirit. The second day, though, he started to get strange. We ate breakfast together, and he just stared at me. He asked if I hated the other kids in the orphanage, for what they said about me. I told him I didn't, that they were right, that I was a freak, and that was the first time he hit me. He just slapped me, then. The maid freaked out, and he left the room with her. I never saw her again, and I had to start doing the cleaning after that."

"I'll assume it grew progressively worse from there?"

"As I got older, yeah. The Thorn Manacles didn't come into play until I was thirteen, and only rarely then. He didn't like to use them on me at that point, and he only did when I did something really wrong."

"What had happened when he used them the first time?" Marcone spoke in a lulling way that made me tired, that matched the tempo of the hand running through my hair, and I yawned. That's what really surprised me. Talking about this, my worst memories, and I was able to yawn. Hell's Bells, what had Marcone? It had to be something weird, something… something… why did it matter? If I could keep him calm, he'd stay like this all the time, and that'd really be so much better, but no. I needed to… I needed to fix him. My thoughts trailed off in some other direction and I knew I wouldn't be able to think of much of anything until Marcone was satisfied and let me get up.

"He was… he was testing my aptitude for different types of spells. Evocation, Thaumaturgy, stuff like that. Then he brought out a little fairy, one of the small ones, like what Toot-Toot is," I began, even though as far as I knew Marcone wouldn't know who that was, then went on, "He told me to perform a Psychomancy spell on it, make it a thrall and have it kill itself. I didn't want to, because… because Bob had showed it to me a few days earlier. I'd talked with it, and even though it didn't remember me, since little Fae like that forget things really quickly, I remembered it, and I'd liked it. I didn't want it to die. DuMorne just slapped me around a little, at first, but he just gave me a bloody lip. He did that often enough that I didn't care too much anymore. Then he got out the barbed wire. He liked using that, since the scars it left were pretty small and it hurt like hell. He wrapped it around my middle and left me in the floor. He cast some charm or something on me, I couldn't move. Come to think of it, he'd probably been doing Thaumaturgy on me, probably had a doll or something. Anyway, he left me there and came back about ten minutes later with them in his hand. He told me that children who didn't listen to their masters had to be punished until they were willing to obey. He put them on me and left me in the floor there for about three days. Bob didn't know what was going on, at that point, so he didn't come to help me. The little Fae was crying the whole time. I think I was too," I mumbled, nuzzling against Marcone's leg. I had a stray thought that whatever had Marcone certainly had to be able to perform hypnotism, because I was not acting like myself at all.

"Did you ever kill the little fairy?"

"No. He had me try a few psychomancy spells on animals instead, had me get them to walk around in a cage or something. I could hardly even do that, so he figured I wouldn't have been able to do that anyway. He found out that my real talent was Thaumaturgy. That's… that's the only kind of magic I'm really any good at. I can hardly even make potions without Bob, and I sure as hell can't do Evocation well. I guess I'm passable at it, maybe. I'm screwed without my foci. But I'm really good at Thaumaturgy, it's why… it's why I was able to start my business, I can find things and stuff like that."

"Don't worry over that, cucciola mia, it's alright. I've seen you fight, you're one of the most skilled I know. Tell me more, alright?"

"He came in my room one night," I mumbled, the memory surfacing suddenly, "I was fifteen. It was my birthday, the day Elaine came to live with us. I'd been obeying him even less than I normally did, recently. I think that's why he got it in his head to make me a thrall. I was scared to sleep, that night. I don't know why, I think it was because he'd taken Bob out of my room. He'd tried the first time to make me a thrall about a week earlier, and he wasn't able to. I might not be good at much, but I've got a will from hell, and Bob had told me a lot about Psychomancy, since I'd always been scared of it. He'd taught me a couple of spells to protect myself against it, without DuMorne knowing. That night at dinner, he'd had me cook. He usually didn't do that, because he was always paranoid that I'd poison him. He knew I hated him. He was acting so strangely, so I eavesdropped on him and Elaine. He cast spells on her, the same ones I'd cast on myself, and even that very first night he started trying ways to get through them. He found one, a little before I brought dinner out, and he tried it on me that night, in my room. It didn't work, and he was so, so angry… he pulled me out of bed by my hair and dragged me down to the basement. I screamed, but DuMorne had just left the thrall on Elaine that night, so she didn't hear or care. He took it off of her the next morning, though, and that's when we became friends. Anyway, he dragged me to the basement and started kicking me. He broke two of my ribs that night, and fractured a third, at least that's what Bob told me, and he took some of my blood. I didn't know what it was for until the day I killed him."

"And what was its purpose?"

"He used it to call He Who Walks Behind to kill me. He knew I was the one who started the fire, he knew he was going to die, and he couldn't use his death curse on me because I was already pretty far from the house. Instead he used the blood to summon He Who Walks Behind and bind him to find me and kill me. That thing got to me before the council, nearly killed me, but I managed to beat it. I still don't know how, but I know He still has a grudge against me. The council found me a little while after He left. Morgan did, actually. He was really nice, to begin with. I trusted him. He told me that the ones on the council were the good guys, that they'd help me. Then they said I was a warlock, that I'd killed one of their most well respected members. DuMorne, well respected! It was so funny I laughed. The well respected wizard who beat the hell out of his nasty warlock foster son, who made his foster daughter into a thrall and did god knows what with her. He was well respected and I was the bad one. Then Ebenezer testified on my behalf. He saved me. Without him, I would've been dead rather than Doomed. I was sent to live with him, and he became my new Master. He trained me for three years, then, at eighteen, I got my stole and moved to Chicago. I started up my business at a suggestion from Michael, since he saw how much all my other work was failing, and I've lived that way ever since."

"You did other work?"

"Yeah. I worked in fast food for a while, but I started feeling guilty after I broke the fryer, the ice-cream dispenser, the drive through microphone, and the refrigerator, so I quit. Then I tried being a waiter, but I kept dropping people's food all over the place and got fired. Then I worked as some guy's secretary. I think you can probably guess how well that worked out." The fingers had found one particularly wonderful spot near the crown of my head, and I swear I didn't push my head into his hand every time it seemed like he was going to stop. Anyone who says that I did is a liar. Including Marcone himself.

"Yes, I believe I could manage to deduce secretary work isn't for you. Are you tired, tesora?"

"Yeah… whassat mean, anyway? Tesora?"

"Nothing you need to hear when you're so tired. Just go to sleep, Harry, and I'll wake you when it's time for dinner, alright?"

"Whatever. You're probably just insulting me anyway, because you know I don't know Italian. John, you asshole," I mumbled as my eyes slipped closed and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. I still say the prick had to have slipped me something.

* * *

Marcone's POV

I would never have guessed that feeding Harry and then having him talk about his past was the way to get him to be so trusting, but I supposed it was best not to complain. I shifted him off of my lap and onto a pillow before I tugged a blanket over him and began to walk out of the room. Then I paused, and turned back around. Harry was already quite obviously deeply asleep, and would notice very little I did. I shifted my weight from foot to foot for a minute or two in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, before I calmed myself and walked forward. Harry wouldn't know. I bent down, saw his lips, pale and thin, mouth a little open, and I kissed him. I don't know why, because I knew how dangerous it would be, how simple it would be for him to wake up and burn me, but as I pulled away and saw him there, still sound asleep, I knew it'd been worth the risk.

His lips had been surprisingly soft despite their bitten, chapped appearance, and had tasted syrupy sweet. He let out a heavy sigh and rolled over as I walked away, attempting to hold back a small laugh. My beloved one, my one and only. I wondered why I'd had to choose someone so… so… him. Someone so oblivious to the feelings of others, so self-sacrificing. I could have countless women, all beautiful, some smart, women who would be wonderful conversation and not call me a scumbag at every turn. I didn't want any of them though. I could look at them and see nothing, no one I wanted to know, then look at Harry and see his fight, see him challenge me at every turn, and all I want is for him to show me some bit of politeness, some bit of the kindness he heaps on his friends.

He isn't swayed by my money, nor does he care for my influence, or even the information I could give him. He glares at me, acts as though I'm the scum of the earth, and only rarely will he admit that what I do is a necessity, that I keep the underground as clean as it can be. Yet I care for him so much. His well-being is paramount to me, and those who wish to hurt him automatically come to the forefront of my own mind as my greatest enemies. That council of his, which I'd never heard of before today, is suddenly at the top of my hit list, specifically that Morgan man, and the one called the Merlin. I sighed, rubbed my head, wondered why in the world I had to choose a man like Harry to fall in love with, and walked towards my room. I was stopped about halfway by Gard.

"Mr. Marcone. I have thought of a way with which you may find yourself with a wizardly lover." I smiled at her, and she returned it.

"And how is that, Ms. Gard?"

"You may call me Sigrun, Mr. Marcone. Or you may, at the very least, stop using miss. I think romanticism may be the key, by the way. I've had much experience with women who care little for the feats of their suitors, but wish for some silly romantic sentiment. Perhaps that's what Harry wishes for as well."

"Romantic sentiments, eh? I never pegged him as the type."

"He has not noticed anything else you've tried. I see few other options, besides perhaps a sign around your neck proclaiming your feelings." I laughed.

"It may come to that, you know. God love him, Harry's quite oblivious to much in his life."

"I shall make the sign for you, then. There is none alive who could know what crude things you'd paste upon it." I laughed, again.

"Harry likes crude."

"Not your sort of crude. He seems to be a bit of a prude, if I'm to be honest."

"I suppose you're not lying, Sigrun. Please, do go find Hendricks, alright? You two may continue on about your duties together. Harry is sleeping, so please don't allow anyone to disturb him. Specifically not that Sam Maricks boy. I'll be in my office until dinner."

"Yes, sir. I will do my best to keep everyone away from his door. I'm certain Hendricks will do the same." I nodded my thanks and went to my office, only to find a pile of paperwork strewn across my desk, along with a note from Hendricks. Apparently he was quite tired of doing my, "stupid ass real estate bullshit," and was very vehement that I should, "do it my damn self, prick." Hendricks has a wonderful vocabulary, and very much enjoyed taking advantage of the fact that we were friends.

* * *

Hendricks' POV

Gard found me when I'd gone through about half of the house on my rounds, Sam just behind me.

"Hello, Mr. Hendricks. Marcone has gone to his office for the remainder of the evening, and has asked that we take measures to keep intruders from Harry's room, as he is asleep."

"Christ, he was in bed until noon today! When the hell was the last time he got a good night's sleep?"

"I do not know, Mr. Hendricks. I would assume it has been a while, as I noticed his bed was rather neat when I packed his clothing, and I am quite sure he is not the sort that would make his bed every morning."

"He isn't," I started, "I broke into his apartment once, before he bulked up his wards, and saw his bed. It looked like shit, just like the rest of his apartment. Apparently he can't be bothered to clean on a regular basis. I felt bad for that cat of his, even if it did try to claw the hell out of me." Gard laughed, and Sam shifted.

"Mister is a very nice animal, for his size. You must've done something to offend him." I grinned.

"Yeah, I broke into his master's house, shattered a plate, and stole a t-shirt and a pen. I can understand why he was pissed at me."

"Well, I suppose you should hope he doesn't hold a grudge, Mr. Hendricks, as he is in this house. I would assume he's with Harry, actually, but I cannot be certain. By the way, are you training someone to take your place? You hardly ever take someone on your rounds." I grinned, sharp-toothed, and it really wasn't much wonder that people called me John's guard dog.

"Nope. This is some kid John met this morning, Sam Maricks. He was hanging around the fucking wizard, so you can probably guess what John's feelings are towards him."

"Quite clearly, yes. He actually informed me that I was to specifically not allow him into Harry's room, so I suppose that means it will be I that guards him until he awakens, rather than you. Unless you wish for me to take on your charge?" Gard actually sounded _hopeful. _I could hardly believe it, really. Was she that desperate to get off of Harry Duty? Maybe she thought that if she looked after him too much Marcone would get pissed, which was honestly probably a pretty good assumption. Chances were she already had a folder in John's wonderful room. I wondered for a second if she knew about that room, and yeah, she probably did. She did live in the basement after all. I shrugged.

"Sure, you could probably use a break from staring at a tall ass wizard, yeah? Take him somewhere, and I'll go look after him, make sure no suspicious characters like his best friend or you two come to defile his glorious innocence." Gard laughed, and I had the stray thought that she looked even prettier when she smiled.

"You do not have to be so dramatic."

"Oh, come on, you know he's a pretty, pretty princess and John's the knight come to keep him safe from the likes of all the monsters in the world. Like his best friend or you two." She smiled, obviously deciding to join in the joke.

"Ah, am I a dragon, come to pillage the tower he's locked up in? Perhaps this boy beside me is a warlock, and his best friend will betray him?"

"Of course! I don't think he's a virgin or anything, but dragons like wizards, right? He'll be your crown jewel!"

"Yes, yes, the prize of my slice of the Nevernever! I'll carve you up and burn you to bits to get at him, then I'll spirit him off from right under Marcone's nose!"

"Don't let him hear you say that," I said with a laugh, "I think he might be able to slice open a dragon with a penknife if he thought it was going after Harry." She smirked.

"It is probably so. I'm honestly a bit surprised he hasn't had a tower built to shove Harry into."

"That'd be bad for business. He'd have to answer questions, and I don't think a builder would be able to do something like that without a hell of a lot of questions."

"Perhaps he could get Harry's friend Michael to do it. That'd be terribly ironic, don't you think? A knight building a tower to lock the princess up."

"Stop talking about Harry like that!" Sam suddenly spoke up, and I glared sharply at him.

"What the hell did I tell you about that? Idiot," I hissed, and Gard quirked a brow. Shit, I knew that look. It was her, 'Oh what fools these mortals be!' look.

"Have you feelings for him too? I'm sorry to say I'll not help you along. Marcone is the only one I find myself able to see Harry with. I've already had to calm him once today, you know, after we ran across a young man who wished to be Harry's apprentice. How old are you, by the way?" Gard really had a knack for jumping from topic to topic at random. It was pretty interesting, really, as long as I wasn't the one trying to keep up with her.

"No, I don't have feelings for him! I just think he's worthy of respect! And I'm twenty-three, by the way. Why does that matter?"

"It matters because I won't be able to use the, 'he is only a child' excuse for you. I do respect Harry, by the way, very much so. He has more raw strength holed up inside him than any mortal practitioner I've met in over a century. Though he sees himself as weaker than me, I'd not relish going against him in a fight. It would be far closer than I'd wish it, honestly."

"Same with me, kid. I've seen those rings of his in action, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of them. Only time I'd be able to beat him is if he was all out of magic or if I got him with a gun from somewhere far, far away."

"His… rings? All the things he can do and you talk about his rings?" the boy hissed at me, and I wondered when he grew a spine.

"Yeah. He can't hit worth shit on his own, can hardly even make a fist, but from what I've seen, those things can make it feel like it's a brick wall slamming into you, not a scrawny wizard. Hell, it's a compliment either way. He made the things."

"Quite true, quite true. He made all his weapons, actually. It's the wizard's way. Hours and hours of carving, in the case of his staff and his blasting rod. The runes, while their meaning matters not, must look exactly how the carver wants them to, or the finished product will not serve them. A wizard often carves five, or even ten, before the finished product is what they wish it to be. A staff is the most peculiar of the foci, the most difficult to create, so I have often wondered why Harry chose it. It does not even have any affinity to fire as his blasting rod does."

"It only shows how impressive he is," the boy said, his arms crossed, and Gard managed a smile at him.

"You still speak the truth, and yet it seems impressive beings are to be admired by only a few. Those who are unique, amazing, are coveted, and the ones who covet them are powerful, powerful people. It is dangerous for those like you to go about spouting your admiration. Without power, a person may only admire the great in silence."

"So you think I'm weak?" I didn't understand how the kid actually managed to sound upset at that. Had he ever looked at himself?

"Compared to John? Yes. Would you like to go against him in a fight and prove me wrong?" The kid fell blessedly silent, and I gave a stiff nod. The humor of a few moments before had flooded away, leaving business in its place.

"I'll be going, then. Keep a close eye on him, Gard." She nodded and gave me that amazing predator's smile she had, the one no one would expect from a woman like her, the one that made my heart, stupid as it sounds, skip a beat.

"Of course, Mr. Hendricks."

"You, uh, you can call me Nathan, if you want. We are working together, you know, and we will be for a while."

"That is true, I suppose. Call me Sigrun as well, then." I nodded once, not betraying how happy that actually made me, and walked off to Harry's room. I had the dull thought that I was a little jealous he got one of the same quality as John's, but I figured there wasn't much use in complaining over it. Harry would be getting special treatment for as long as he was here, since the boss had a thing for him. I was pretty sure I could take this to court, if I was in a regular business situation, but funny thing is, courts don't usually like to pay much attention when the underboss of the Outfit wants to sue the boss for favoring a wizard. I've always thought that was something that needed to change, but oh well, I guess. I took my place by the wizard's door, although I didn't hear anything inside. That was sort of weird; I'd always figured he'd snore, for some reason. I wondered if he'd jumped out the window and fled or something. I sighed.

If he had, the boss would kill me. Literally kill me, no questions asked, then there'd be a goddamned manhunt for the wizard himself, and god knew what after that. I sighed again, and opened the door as quietly as I could. Harry lay sprawled across the bed, a black robe piled on the floor, and I could see his socked feet sticking out from under the blankets. Damn, was he tall. Before I'd met him, I'd always been the biggest guy in the room, but he stood above me by at least three inches. He didn't use that height to be intimidating, though, like any sane guy would, and so it just made him look awkward and gangly, a little like a puppet. His limbs didn't look like they did what he told them to, and he had the perpetual air of a high school boy who was still growing into himself. It made him look defenseless at the best of times and pathetic at the worst. Now, as he slept silently (I hadn't even known it was possible for him to be quiet), he was stuck firmly on defenseless. His face was slack, calm in a way I'd never seen it, and his hair flopped messily over the pillow. I wondered how he could manage a sleep like that with all the people, and worse, the not-people, that were after him. And that, of course, had to be when the nightmare started.

His jaw tensed up suddenly, his eyes clenched, and his hands fisted in the blankets. His breath came in heavy pants, pants I could hear even from my place by the door, and he tossed and turned. The blanket got tangled around him, though, and he was forced to still. He looked like a little kid then, I noticed, and had quickly dropped from defenseless to pathetic. I wondered what monsters were haunting him, as words began to fall silently from his lips. I've heard before that you're not supposed to wake someone from a nightmare, but looking at him suffering like that, after John had made me promise so many times to protect him, I couldn't take it, especially not when the mouthed words transformed into a silent scream. I walked into the room and shook his shoulders.

He jerked awake suddenly with soft cry, and stared into my eyes without any hesitation. It was funny, I managed to think, he'd never looked me in the eye before, and then I remembered the Soul Gaze a second too late. I got drawn into him, and I suppose he, in turn, was drawn into me.

His soul was a dark hallway, with candles hanging on the wall by ancient, grimy sconces. The carpeting was obviously soft, and was a deep red, while the walls were black. The entire place was lit only by the dim, flickering light of the candles, and hell, I supposed, I was in there, I may as well look around. I took a step forward and suddenly there were paintings on the wall.

They were all in bright golden frames, and their backgrounds were all light, airy, and pale. They didn't fit with the rest of the environment, and so I examined the first one more closely. It was of an older, thin man, with a face like Harry's but a little softer, with fewer angles. His hair was the same mass of dark curls, though, and his smile was the same as Harry's too. A little crooked, a little teasing, but honest, genuine. He had five aces in his hand and a top hat on his head, like the birthday party magicians I'd sometimes seen. I blinked, and the picture changed, grayed, aged. The man's face took on the ugly pallor of death, and the smile on his face become wide and unnatural. The aces became jokers and the picture fell suddenly from the wall. I reeled back and whipped around to be faced with the image of a lovely woman.

The image of her was of her entire body, and she was long and slim. I could tell, even though it was only a painting, that her eyes glinted with the light of a joke only she knew or understood. Her stance was sensual, in a joking way, and those bright eyes were the same deep brown as Harry's. She held a blasting rod in her fingers, and there appeared to be a jet of air falling from it. One of Harry's tricks, I knew. I didn't want to blink, for fear that this image would be corrupted as well, but I had no choice, and when my eyes flashed open again, she looked terrible. The blasting rod she had held was in two pieces on the ground, and in the background there had appeared the man from before holding a crying baby. She herself was on the ground, long body wrapped in a death shroud, a rose on her chest, and a shadowy figure loomed over her. The painting fell and I whipped around to march down the hall, sparing only slight glances to the paintings on the wall.

An old man with a pick-up truck behind him. A short, kindly man in a priest's robe. A bearded brunette I knew to be Michael Carpenter, his family smiling behind him. A blonde with her hair cut jaggedly, sharply, but with a button nose and laughing eyes that I recognized as Harry's friend from the force, Karrin Murphy. A college aged boy with soulful, dog-like brown eyes. A big guy with his hair in a ponytail holding a tiny blonde girl in his arms. The tanned woman he'd gone to the gala with, Susan. A gorgeous, dark haired man that had Harry's long, angular face, but on him it wasn't nearly as awkward, for some reason. Finally, at the end of the hall, I saw John Marcone himself. He stared out of the painting, eyes sharp but a smile on his face, and I blinked. Nothing happened.

The painting remained unchanged, the colors stark, and, above all, John remained obviously alive. I didn't understand, and wondered when I'd be able to get the hell out of Harry Dresden's soul. A voice sounded from behind me, and I, again, whipped around. I would never admit to it again, but I, at that moment, was scared. You would be too if you were trapped in a wizard's soul and heard a voice in there.

"It's funny, huh? Harry seems to think nothing bad will ever happen to that guy. He can't imagine him ever dying, like he can everyone else in his life. I understand why, of course, I'm his smart half," the voice said, and he'd always be the voice, because even though I could see he had Harry's face, Harry's voice, he wasn't Harry. The awkwardness that would've shown in the voice's limbs if he were Harry was not there, instead replaced with long, flowing grace. The smile on his face was the same, though, that almost infuriating grin that made you think the one wearing it was always one step ahead of you. It really only pissed me off because Harry was always at least ten steps behind everyone else in the room.

"Never pegged him as the type to imagine his friends dying," I said with a cough, looking at this voice that wore Harry's face, that turned him into something he inherently wasn't.

"He doesn't want to, but he can't help it. Those first two paintings you saw, they're the only ones that are really dead. They're Harry's parents. He was alone for so long, he fears he will be again, and it's very understandable. He lives a dangerous life. People could die, if they're close to him. For some reason, though, he just can't bring himself to think it could happen to that man, even though, objectively, he's the most likely to die of all those close to him. Ah, I'm Harry's subconscious, by the way."

"Any reason you're in his soul?"

"Any reason you are?"

"One Harry is plenty, you know. Two don't need to exist, even if one is in the other's head." He laughed, boisterous.

"So I've been told. Apparently people prefer the Harry I live in to me. I can't really understand why, though. I'm better. I've actually grown into my limbs, and I'm not nearly as much of an oblivious idiot. Like I said before, I'm his smart half, and I'm the one that can actually tell why Harry finds it so impossible to think of that man dying."

"Why?" I asked, but I didn't voice my idea that this 'subconscious' was Harry's insecurity more than anything else. The way it called itself better, said it had grown into its limbs, called the real Harry stupid, it all suggested to me that it merely projected what Harry wanted to be. I didn't know why he'd want to be that voice, though. That voice didn't feel natural, or human. Harry wouldn't either, if he were like it.

"You're a smart man, aren't you Cujo? I think you know. It's the same reason your boss is so damned obsessive, so damned creepy. If I were in control, I wouldn't stand for it. It isn't healthy, you know? But you don't care, right? You're the one intruding on his soul, sneaking your way in when he's afraid. I wonder what your boss would think."

"I don't love Dresden. I forgot about the damned Soul Gaze bullshit, all I was trying to do was get him out of the nightmare. By the way, are you suggesting that Harry has feelings for John?" The voice laughed.

"Look at where his painting is. It's at the head of the hallway, and it's the only one that doesn't crumble away if you take a second look. Wouldn't you think Susan would be here? Or Karrin? Or even Michael? But it's John Marcone. Harry can't control what his soul looks like, you know. He doesn't even know. It's a strange thing, really. He recognizes Marcone's actions, but he doesn't _recognize _them. He sees that it's obvious Marcone loves him, but he doesn't _see_. It's funny, when you're in my position."

"I'm sure. Do you think I can leave, now?"

"You could've left whenever you wanted, but there was something you wanted. You've found that something now, I guess. Bye bye!" He waved his fingers at me, and then I felt an uncomfortable pulling that brought me from Harry's soul into the real world. Harry was panting when I saw him again, lying there limply on the bed.

"Sorry," I said, because it was all I could think to say. He smiled, looking a little dizzy.

"S'okay. You were trying to help me, yeah? Get me out of my nightmare. S'my own fault for not looking away. B'sides, your soul isn't so bad. S'pretty tame, compared to some. Least it's not a fuckin' refrigerator," he said with a yawn as he sat up and stretched. I heard his spine pop and winced in sympathy.

"What did mine look like?" I asked suddenly, and Harry smiled a little.

"Like a soldier's. It shows your loyalty, your strength. It's like burning, intense."

"Oh. Whose was like a refrigerator?" He was tired, obviously, so I figured it'd be easy to get something like that out of him.

"John's. It's cold, and metal. A tiger's soul. It keeps the beast at bay. He's got a goal, and he'll do whatever he can to accomplish it. Except for one corner, and it's dark. I couldn't see it, but whatever's in that corner is what he wants to hold back. He's a tiger through and through, though. He's got stripes, when I look at him with my Sight open. He's got something funny around him, though, some kind of aura. S'all green, with red splotches. Gotta ask Bob, tomorrow," Harry mumbled, before he flopped back down and rolled over. My eyes went wide. Was something wrong with John? Something magical.

"No, no, Harry, I know you're tired, but don't go to sleep yet. Is something wrong with John? Has someone cursed him or something?"

"He's gotta be possessed. Gotta be. He gets so angry, for no reason, and then he's suddenly all happy and friendly. He goes from making me some really, really good pancakes to glaring at everyone. Never known a demon to manifest as an aura, but he's gotta be possessed. Nothing else to explain it." I smiled a little. Nothing wrong with him, then, just jealous.

"Alright. You can go to sleep now, Harry. I'll be outside if you need me. Try to scream if you have another nightmare."

"Usually only have one a night. Should be fine. Thanks though, Cujo. I owe you one." I smirked. Having a wizard owe me a favor? I wouldn't complain about that.

"I'll hold you to that, Dresden. Have a good sleep, and I'll wake you for dinner." Harry grunted, and I left the room.

* * *

Gard's POV

"Why does Mr. Marcone like Harry so much?" the boy asked suddenly, perhaps expecting me to jump.

"Hasn't Nathan told you it would be far better for you if you would just call him Mr. Dresden? And that is a silly question. One being cannot decipher the heart of another. Is it not enough to simply know that John has a deep affection for him, and wishes that no harm be brought upon him?"

"No! Whenever I had a crush on a girl, back when I was in school, my friends could always tell why. What if Mr. Marcone just wants to use him?"

"He does not. John is not that kind of man. He loves sparsely, and obviously. Besides, it is not always so simple to deduce the reason for affectionate feelings. When you were in school, a large part of it was certainly physical attraction, and while I am certain that is a part of what draws John to Harry, there is something more, as well. It is not always the place of a friend to seek out the reason for those feelings, but rather to simply let them… run their course." My mind wandered, something that scarcely ever occurred, drawn to thoughts of a particular red head. I sighed. Such feelings were not appropriate, especially not for me.

"You've only just started to work here. How could you know if he was not 'that kind of man'?"

"Because I would not have begun to work for him to begin with if he was. You know, for someone who claims to be only friends with Harry, you are very interested in the affections others have for him."

"That's what friends do. Mr. Marcone… what he's doing isn't healthy. It's not how love is supposed to be."

"John is simply… too ancient. He loves how my people once did, and if Harry can bring himself to accept that love, their relationship will be like any other."

"Except Mr. Marcone will still be obsessive!"

"Probably so, and possessive as well. If Harry chooses to return John's love, his life will be very different. I cannot help but think, however, that it would be good for him. He has never known of anyone that would be as devastated as John would be if he died, never known someone that cared so deeply for him, deeply enough to do whatever he wanted or needed, no matter the cost. Harry has always been the one to show such selflessness to others. He needs someone like John to show it to him." Sam pouted up at me, and I smirked a little.

"Whatever. I know there isn't much I can do about this, about any of it, but it doesn't mean I can't dislike it. It also doesn't mean I can't try to keep Harry from giving in to Mr. Marcone."

"And I can continue to advise against it, and you can continue to avoid listening to me, but that all matters little. Come, I will show you how to perform rounds, as despite what Nathan has said, I believe that he is making plans to have you promoted in some way, though John will dislike it." Sam nodded, and I led him off through the mansion.

* * *

Harry's POV

Much as I hate to admit it, I've never slept better than I do in Marcone's place. It's blessedly quiet, and the bed is softer than any I've ever had before. It's even warm, which has definitely never happened in my apartment before. That doesn't mean I like it there, though. Too many goons all over the place, which was proved to me when Hendricks suddenly barged in and woke me up.

"Time for dinner, Harry."

"Rharrgh," came my intelligent, well thought out response.

"That isn't a word, Harry. Come on, get up. If you don't come I won't get to eat, and I'm hungry."

"Five more minutes. M'sleepy." Hendricks groaned.

"Goddamn it, Harry, you're not a toddler. Get your skinny ass up."

"Fine, fine," I whined, somehow managing to lever myself up to my feet. I stumbled and Hendricks, surprisingly enough, actually caught me. I'd always figured he'd enjoy watching me tumble into a wizardly heap on the ground.

"Christ, how long has it been since you've slept?" Hendricks grunted, throwing one of my arms over his shoulder so he could help me get down the hall until I got my legs back. I realized it made us look like we were buddies or something, and snickered a little. I did have to admit, though, it was sort of nice walking beside someone who was tall enough that I could actually lean on them.

"Uh… 'bout three days, if you mean sleeping at all, and I haven't had my full eight hours in a month or so. M'fine, though, wizards can stay up longer without health problems. Still be tired as hell, but nothing coffee can't fix. Be nice if I actually liked coffee," I mumbled, stumbling a little on my feet. "This is partly John's fault, though. I wasn't nearly as tired until he came in there and started petting my hair," I mumbled, and Hendricks quirked an eyebrow at me. Do you have a problem with calling mobsters affectionately by their first name and revealing that said mobsters seem to have an unhealthy affinity for petting you when you're dead tired? I do.

"You know, you talk a lot when you're tired, Dresden. You already owe me a favor."

"What?" I asked, perking up a little.

"I woke you up from a nightmare a few hours ago. You were grateful, and said you owed me a favor. You were also babbling about John being possessed."

"Well, fuck me," I mumbled, pulling my hand from his shoulder now that I was steady enough to walk on my own.

"I'm not into that," Hendricks joked, and through my shock that he actually had a sense of humor I managed to let out a laugh.

"Come on, you know I'm adorable."

"Nope, not at all. Pretty women are more my speed, not gawky wizards."

"You've just got bad taste, Cujo. Anyway, how about I make you a force ring, huh? For my favor. You always stare at them, so I figured you'd want one," I said, wiggling my ringed fingers at him.

"Force ring, huh? That's what they're called? Will it work for me, even if I'm not a wizard?"

"Yeah, since I'll be the one making it. Just remember, you can build up a lot, but it's kind of a one and done deal, until you build more force up."

"In most situations, I'd only need it once."

"That's true, I guess. Yeah, I'll bring the stuff with me to make it in my office tomorrow."

"You repay favors well, don't you?" Hendricks laughed again, and I shrugged as we stopped in front of a heavy set of wooden double doors.

"I try." Hendricks smiled at me and opened the doors. What I saw on the other side, I could hardly believe.

There was a long table, like the kind you'd expect to see in a castle, and at least fifty people were seated, with Marcone at the head. Hendricks led me to the empty seat on his right side and then took the seat opposite me, with Gard on his other side. Marcone gave me a little half-smile, but I was too distracted by the heaps of food to notice. Chicken breasts, pork chops, steaks, and other meats galore. There were even vegetables! I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten real live vegetables! I knew I was drooling, but I really, really couldn't help it.

"Hungry, Harry?" Marcone asked, and I licked my lips. I wondered why he was staring so intently at me during that.

"Yeah, I am. This all looks really good. Damn, I can't even remember the last time I had vegetables! Hell's Bells, Marcone, do I have something on my face? If I do, tell me and stop staring at me."

"Hm? Ah, yes, there's a red mark on your cheek, I assume from sleeping on it."

"Cujo, you prick, you could've told me."

"It's hardly even noticeable, Dresden, and it's already fading, right John?" Hendricks sent a sharp look over to Marcone, who sighed.

"Yes, barely a pink spot now. Don't worry over it, Harry. Besides, it seems everyone is here, so we may go ahead and start eating. Enjoy your meal, everyone," John said, a smile on his face, and I lunged forward to snatch a plate with pork chops on it. The guy beside me glared, but I stuck my tongue out and dropped two on my own plate before I handed it to him.

"How childish," the man grunted at me, taking one for his own plate.

"Yup, I am. Can't blame me, though. I was an only child, so I'm used to getting whatever I want," I lied, a teasing smile on my face, and he continued to glare. His mouth opened for a second, as though he were about to yell at me, but it snapped closed suddenly and his eyes were on his plate the rest of the night. I wondered why, but shrugged nonetheless.

"Hey, Marcone, I know these aren't your only guys. Where's everyone else?"

"My top employees eat in here with me, dolcezza, and everyone else eats in one of the other dining rooms."

"Crime pays too damned much. Stars and stones, I couldn't afford this place in my lifetime, and I've got at least two hundred years left, if nothing decides to kill me," I mumbled, grabbing a bowl of mashed potatoes and scooping some onto my plate.

"You could if you'd just let me pay for you," Marcone sighed out, and I rolled my eyes.

"I've told you over a hundred times that I won't take blood money."

"Much as you hate to admit it, I do have legitimate businesses. It would be quite simple for me to only do things for you with the money I earn from them."

"Then think of it as me not wanting to owe you. I owe people, and bad things start happening to me. That's why I get my debts out of the way, like what I'm doing for Cujo tomorrow." Marcone shot a suspicious glance at the red head, who held up his hands in innocence.

"And just what is it that you're doing for Mr. Hendricks?"

"I'm going to fix him up a force ring, like this one," I said, tapping the shimmering silver ring on my middle finger.

"I never understood why you wear so many rings when apparently that's the only one that does anything," Marcone said, and the tenseness that had come into his shoulders when I said I was doing something for Hendricks melted away. Maybe he thought he and I were conspiring against him or something.

"Hey, don't underestimate me! These all do something, they're just not all force rings. I've got a pretty good arsenal, just on this hand, you know? Force ring, shield bracelet, rejuvenating ring, lucky ring, and a ring to help keep any bad spirits away. That last one's new, by the way, Bob had me make it after some sort of thing took up residence in my apartment, started putting out my fire and all that. Apartment was freezing for a week, before I found out what was doing it and got rid of it." The guy beside me grumbled softly, too softly for me to hear. Probably some guy that didn't believe I could do what I said I could, although I was a little curious why. He was sitting pretty close to Marcone, so I'd figured he himself was close to Marcone, and therefore close to Gard, and so I'd assumed he would know why she and I were wanted. Whatever.

"If you've got a rejuvenating ring, why are you so fucking tired?" Hendricks asked, rolling his eyes. Probably still annoyed he'd had to pretty much carry me down the hall.

"Because, it's a one and done deal too, so I save it for tight spots when I'm all out of juice. Peps me up enough to go for another day, at least. Pretty handy in a fight, I've got to say." The room fell quiet except for the vaguely comforting chatter of all the people further down the table for about twenty minutes, until Marcone spoke to me again.

"Tesora, I know you don't approve of much of my work, but I'm expecting visitors after dinner, and I've given Hendricks and Gard the night off. I'm expecting them to come heavy, so I'll need you there."

"Come heavy?" I asked, my mouth full and wondering when I'd gotten so used to him calling me things in Italian that I didn't even need to hear my name to know he was talking to me. I'd have to ask Hendricks what some of that crap meant, some time. Or maybe I could ask Bob, he might know Italian.

"Come armed, have loaded guns, knives, and the like. Having a guard with me would make me feel far better about it."

"So, what, I need a gun too? Mine's still at home, you know, I didn't bring it." Marcone waved a hand dismissively.

"I wouldn't think you'd need it. Just have your blasting rod, alright? Your staff would be a bit suspicious."

"Don't have much choice, I guess. Where do you want me to meet you?"

"I'll just wait by your room after dinner, alright? You can change into something a bit more… suitable, and get your things."

"You know I don't have a suit besides the one I wore to the gala, right? And it's pretty filthy at this point. It's got Mister's fur all over it, and I'm pretty sure I dropped some food on it before I saw you there." Marcone sighed.

"Do you have a button down and a pair of slacks?" I shrugged.

"Probably, but I can't promise they fit. I don't go anywhere nice all that often, if you couldn't guess. I'm broke more often than not, so the most entertainment I usually get is vampire slaying."

"Well, try it. If not, just put on something clean. I'll assume you'll be wearing that duster anyway."

"Of course, I keep my blasting rod in it. It's got a special loop and everything, sewed it in myself. Plus it makes me look like a badass." Hendricks snorted.

"Nothing makes you look like a badass, you're a damned twig."

"Shut up, Cujo," I said, stuffing a hunk of meat into my mouth. Gard laughed, and even Marcone couldn't hold back a grin. Another twenty minutes passed, and Marcone had the table cleared away as we stood and walked up to my room. The guy who'd been in the seat beside me sneered at me as I left, and I wondered, not for the first time, if maybe I should take a class on social graces.

* * *

When we got up to my room, I forgot that Marcone was uncomfortable with me stripping in front of him and peeled off my t-shirt while I dug around in the suitcase for a button down. He coughed again, and my head shot up.

"Damn it, sorry. I forgot you're weird about seeing skinny wizard ass. You're going to have to give me some time to get over my locker room mentality, you know? I've never been all that shy about people seeing me naked, since I'm not all that much to look at anyhow. Not many people see a beanpole and think, 'wanna hit that'." Marcone cleared his throat, but again, didn't look away. I guess it was just the shock of me always stripping so suddenly that made him freak out.

"It's quite alright, Harry. I suppose I can understand that it's just your way of doing things," he said, as I triumphantly jerked out a white button down, surprisingly stain-free, and a pair of black stacks, surprisingly long enough to cover my ankles. I put the shirt on, my fingers working the buttons with what I knew was surprising ease, then kicked off my jeans and tugged on the slacks. I'm sure I made quite a picture, in too-big pants and a too-loose shirt, but I pulled on my duster nonetheless. It covered me in comfort, and I smiled at its familiarity.

"We must take you shopping, cucciola mia. I can't have one of mine running around in things like that. Was that suit even yours, by the way?" I shook my head and we walked out of my room side by side. No, no, I had to stop thinking of it as my room. This was just like a hotel stay, I was probably going to be heading back to my apartment as soon as I fixed Marcone and he got his sense back.

"Nope, it's a rental. I don't know where Susan got it from though, so I guess they're screwed. They probably won't want it back anyway, though, all things considered." I wondered how I was managing to keep so calm, despite knowing that I was falling head-first into some kind of crime deal, but I figured it was better not to question it as we got to Marcone's office door and walked in. Two guys already sat inside, dressed nicely in well-fitting suits. One of them stood a little behind the other, and I assumed he was the bodyguard. He was damn big, too, and if Marcone was right and they were armed, they were hiding it well, since I couldn't see any unnatural bulges in their jackets or pants. The bodyguard glared at me, obviously sizing me up, while the man I assumed Marcone was in here to meet just smiled pleasantly at me. Marcone took his seat behind his desk, and I stood behind him while the two sat on the chairs in front of him.

"Mr. Marcone, your bodyguards have been declining quite rapidly. First a woman, and now a scrawny thing like him?" I started to open my mouth, but thought better of it pretty quickly. I don't want to end up in a river.

"I don't believe that's what we're here to discuss, is it?" Marcone's voice was stiffly polite, and I shifted from one foot to the other. The other man's guard eyed me suspiciously.

"What, we can't have a friendly chat before we get down to business? I'm just curious about him; wouldn't you be, if you were in my shoes?" This was surprisingly boring. I'd been expecting to hear some secrets of Chicago's underground, not hear some guy insult me. I could go visit Morgan if I wanted to hear that. I sighed and leaned over Marcone's shoulder to pull a business card from the stack on his desk. He turned and glanced at me suspiciously, but I just shrugged and made the thing dance across my knuckles.

It was what I always did when I wanted to distract myself. I usually preferred a coin, or something else that was round, but I could do it with damn near anything that wasn't ridiculously large, and it would keep me quiet. I was glad my father had managed to teach me how to do it, before he died, along with all the other magic tricks I'd learned. I'd be a hit at birthday parties.

"Oh, I get it now," the man said with a snicker, "He's got tricky fingers, that's why you like him. Hey, man, can you do anything else with those fingers?" he asked me with a smirk, and I shrugged. The card continued to do its hypnotizing skip.

"I don't know, I can pull a rabbit out of a hat, I guess. I've got a whole stage show planned out, if I ever need it." The man laughed.

"You hired a magician to be your bodyguard, Marcone? Goddamn, I guess you are at the bottom of the barrel. And he's even oblivious!" Well, that was a little offensive. I wasn't oblivious! I held my mouth shut, and the card flipped a little faster.

"I fail to see how my bodyguard matters at the moment. We are here to discuss business."

"I got some business, alright. Think I can buy Tricky there off of you? I'll give you a hundred grand if you transfer his contract to me."

"He does not have a contract, Mr. Anastasi, and therefore it would be quite impossible for me to sell it to you, although I don't believe I would even if he did."

"Come on, Mr. Marcone. I'm with a family in the Commission, you know? I could get you a lot more influence, and I just want Tricky."

"I've enough influence already, and I am already rather close to the Commission. I've been to more than a few meetings. Now, might we get down to business? I heard your family was having trouble with a shylock that was working out of Chicago?"

"Hold on, hold on, I haven't given up on Tricky yet. Come on, you don't even have to give him to me, just let me have him on loan for a while."

"Mr. Dresden, would you please tell this man you've no intention of leaving me?"

"Whatever, Marcone. Look, Mr. Anastasi, I don't like the mafia. I don't like what you do, and I don't like what you stand for. I'm not getting involved with more of you than I have to, and Marcone's plenty of boss for me."

"But I'm not a boss, Tricky, I'm a consigliore. I'm just here as a representative, since the Don couldn't make it."

"Like I know what a consigliore is. I just said I don't know anything about any of this." He laughed boisterously, and I wondered for a second if he was drunk. Marcone's fingers were tapping out an annoyed, rapid-fire drumbeat on his desk, and my own fingers were now making the card dance with hardly a thought from me.

"It means I'm the counselor. I advise my boss, and all that. I'm one step under the underboss, get what I'm saying? Third in command."

"Like an ensign, then. It doesn't really matter though, I've still got plenty of mob in my life without adding you," I said with a yawn, and I had a surprisingly serious thought about using my rejuvenating ring, but the crash from that thing is hell.

"You've got some pretty rings, Tricky," the bodyguard said suddenly, his arms crossed over his thick chest.

"So I do. Aren't you guys supposed to be talking to Marcone? And Hell's Bells, my name isn't Tricky, so stop calling me that."

"Well, we don't have anything else to call you, Tricky," the consigliore, or whatever the hell it was he called himself, said.

"Yeah, you do. Marcone called me Mr. Dresden not five minutes ago, so call me that."

"I prefer using first names when I refer to bodyguards."

"Too bad, I guess. Only my friends get to call me by my first name."

"Aw, we're not friends, Tricky?"

"You said it, not me. Talk to Marcone now, yeah? I'm not going to work for you. Don't know why you'd want me to anyway, since you were just insulting me when we walked in."

"If you weren't so oblivious, you'd know. Anyway, Mr. Marcone, yeah, my boss wanted me to see if you could do anything about that shylock of ours." I really wish that ass would stop calling me oblivious.

"I may be able to, if you can tell me specifically what the problem with him is."

"He's a babania guy, using our name and our stuff and keeping the cash. He came here because he knew we'd found out, and wanted to get out of our jurisdiction. He doesn't know that you and boss are friends, though."

"You want me to burn him, then?"

"Yeah, and boss says he'll give you two hundred grand for it." Marcone shook his head.

"No need, Mr. Anastasi, your boss and I are rather close. I'll do it for free, as a favor, alright?" Mr. Anastasi took Marcone's hand and kissed it.

"Thank you, Mr. Marcone. Now, business is done, right?"

"I suppose."

"Then let's talk about Tricky. I'll give you whatever you want for his service, okay? Just ask for something, and it's yours." Finally, the card trick wasn't working anymore.

"Stars and stones, will you give up? I'm not going to work for you! I don't want to be working for Marcone!"

"See? Why would you want someone so disrespectful? I'll whip him into shape, and I'm sure this guy here wouldn't mind doing it either," Mr. Anastasi said, patting his bodyguard's arm. The huge man grunted.

"He's got nice fingers, and pretty rings."

"You've already commented on my rings, genius. Stars, and I thought Cujo was stupid," I mumbled, and the bodyguard glared.

"I'm not stupid. They're very pretty. Prettier than mine. Yours look like they're for a girl," he grunted, gesturing to the ring on his own finger, which was made of some kind of dark metal. I didn't bother to get offended that he said my rings looked like a girl's, though. Hell, I had skinny fingers, and I needed small rings. Sue me.

"You're right, you're right, they do look like a woman's! He's got such tiny fingers! You know though, Tricky, you talk funny. What's with all the, Hell's Bells, and stars and stones? Can you not cuss or something?"

"I can cuss fine; I just don't feel like it. And I think I can use whatever expressions of shock or annoyance I want."

"You don't sound like you're from Chicago, you know that Tricky? You don't have an accent."

"Really now? And here I thought I did, seeing as how I can't hear myself talk. I don't know why I never picked up an accent, I just didn't. I've lived here since I was eighteen."

"Well, where'd you live before that?"

"Missouri."

"You born there?"

"Nope."

"Well, where were you born?"

"It hardly matters. Aren't you done talking now?"

"Hardly, sweetheart," the man laughed, and my eyes widened.

"The hell?" No, my voice didn't squeak.

"I said I wasn't done talking," he said with a quirked brow, and I saw Marcone's fingers digging into his desk.

"You called me sweetheart. Marcone, stop that. You'll get splinters. What are you pissed off over anyway?"

"It's rude to talk to two people at once, Tricky. And I called you sweetheart because that's what you are, right? You act like you've got a heart of gold," he said with a snicker.

"Leave, now. You've overstayed your welcome," Marcone hissed, and I was pretty damned sure I could hear the demon's voice underneath his own. Mr. Anastasi's eyes went comically wide. He looked a little like a cartoon character for a second.

"Oh, fuck. Sorry, sorry, Mr. Marcone. Sorry. He's your comare, right? Oh, shit, he is, isn't he? Sorry."

"Finally getting it, pucchiacha? Va fa napole, facia bruta."

"Hey now, I apologized, no need to get upset. I won't touch Tricky, alright? On my life." I can admit it. I had no idea what the hell was going on. First this guy says I'm Marcone's comare, whatever the hell that is, and then he's apologizing profusely. I didn't see where he'd done anything to unforgiveable; really, he'd just been taunting me, as far as I could tell. Kincaid had called me sweetheart more than once, when he was trying to fuck with me. It hardly seemed reason to cuss someone out, as I assumed Marcone had just done. Maybe he just took people insulting his people seriously. I heard him take a deep breath, and his fingers relaxed on the table. I noticed suddenly that mine were still flipping the card.

"Yes, you're right. I do apologize for my overreaction. You are forgiven for your transgression. I would still, however, appreciate it if you left. I'll have your shylock dealt with in the morning, as I have some business to take care of then anyway. I'll send Hendricks out to do it."

"He's your underboss, right? That sounds good. I'll take my leave then, Mr. Marcone. Thank you for your kindness." Marcone nodded once, stiff, and the man and his body guard left. Marcone stood and strode out of the room. I actually had to rush a little to keep up with him.

* * *

"Marcone, tell me what the fuck just happened. What does comare mean, and why did him saying I was yours make him stop insulting me?" Marcone ran a hand quickly through his hair, and I noticed suddenly that it was shaking.

"He wasn't insulting you, Harry, he was flirting with you. Have you never had a man express interest in you before?" I shook my head.

"Didn't I tell you not long ago that very few people are attracted to me? I can hardly get women, much less men." I know that sounds pretty self-deprecating, but I wasn't lying. I'm not hideous, I guess, but I'm exactly GQ material either.

"You're more attractive than you give yourself credit for, Harry."

"And you're seeing something where there's nothing, Marcone. He was trying to fuck with me; people do it all the time. Apparently there's something about me that screams that I have a huge helping of masculine pride, and would therefore get really upset if someone feminized me. That's what the shit about my rings was about, too. This guy I know, Kincaid, loves to piss me off, and he tries stuff like that all the time. Now tell me what comare means."

"It's simply a term for a prized employee, one a boss would die to protect. Now, are you trying to say you haven't got a rather large chunk of masculine pride?"

"I guess. I'm not exactly a pillar of manhood, if you couldn't tell."

"Well, you're certainly not a homosexual," Marcone said, and I'll admit that I probably looked pretty damned confused.

"Where the hell did that come from, Marcone? Do you have a problem with gay guys or something?"

"No, I do not. I was merely stating a fact, as you have certainly slept with women." His voice was colder than it had a right to be.

"Yeah, I have, but I'm not averse to men. I don't know why it would matter to you, but I've been attracted to guys before. Never slept with one, but if the opportunity arose, I can't say I wouldn't think of it." It was Marcone's turn to look shocked.

"Really now? That's a bit surprising."

"Why the hell does everyone think I'm some kind of manly man?" I groaned.

"Well, your views towards women are-"

"Stop there, Marcone. I'll admit it, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, even if that damsel could kick my skinny ass from here to the moon, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the same way towards a man in distress. It's just not as easy to get that across without said man breaking your nose. A woman might call me a pig for it, or a misogynist, but a woman is a lot less likely to hit me for it, and as much as it may seem otherwise, I don't exactly like getting beaten up." Marcone smirked.

"You manage to surprise me every day; do you know that, Harry?"

"Good for me, I guess. Anyway, I'm going to my room, alright? I'm tired. Get me up at about eight, so I'll have time to get to my office."

"Your office is only about twenty minutes away, Harry," Marcone said with a look that suggested he was pretty sure I didn't know what time was.

"I know that, but I assumed I was going to be walking."

"No, I'll drop you off. I've got business to take care of, as I said. The issue with the Shroud, if you'll remember."

"Oh, yeah. Then just get me up whenever you want to leave, then. It doesn't take me long to get dressed." Marcone nodded.

"Of course. Would you mind terribly if I sat in your room for a bit? I don't often get much company, and having you around has been a nice break." I shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to me. I was going to hunt down Gard first, though. I need to grab Bob, and the stuff to make Hendricks' force ring."

"Alright, I'll accompany you," he said, looking up at me, and I had a sudden thought. Marcone was damned attractive. Maybe it was the weird conversation about my sexuality (which reminded me that I had no idea about his), but I was suddenly looking at him in a little bit different way. The faint lines on his face, around his eyes and mouth, added a sort of distinguished look to him, something I knew I didn't have, and even Michael didn't. His faded dollar bill eyes, which I'd always admired, were a little brighter, a little less cold. Goddamn, I needed to get the hell out of here. Being attracted to a mob boss was a real no-no. Not allowed. Bad, bad, bad. I was not a teenage girl with a bad-boy fixation. Fuck that. Marcone was as plain as he'd always been. I nodded once, resolute, and we walked down to the basement where Gard apparently lived. "It seems she isn't here, so I'll just take you to her lab, alright? She won't mind." I nodded, and he opened up a heavy looking door a little ways down the hall and led me inside. I saw Bob immediately, perched on top of his novels on a desk.

"Wakey wakey, Bob," I called, and familiar orange lights filled his eye sockets.

"Harry! How've you been?"

"Well, the food's good, and the bed's soft, so I can't complain. I need to know something though, okay?"

"What is it?"

"Well, it's been a while since I made my force ring, so I don't quite remember how to do it, but I need to make one to repay a favor to someone."

"Oh, no problem. Ask me something hard now and then, Harry."

"I've tried, but whenever I do you just tell me I shouldn't get involved." Bob laughed his skull laugh, and cleared his not-throat. Marcone stared in shock.

"Shut up, Harry. First off, you need a plain silver ring. I don't know where to tell you to find it, because that hot blonde didn't bother to wake me up when she was putting stuff away. Then you need about a tablespoon of fairy dust, for resistance, the essence of power, and after that, you've just got to charm it so it stores kinetic energy."

"Thanks. You can go back to sleep now, I guess. I'm going to carry you up to my room as soon as I grab the stuff, so I can take you to the office tomorrow. I've got a kid that might be coming by, and he'll probably want to meet you, plus I want you around while I'm making this thing to be sure I don't fuck it up."

"Sure thing, Harry. You promised me a day tomorrow anyway."

"Yeah, I did, and you know I don't break a promise. Night, Bob."

"Night Harry." The lights flickered out, and Marcone blinked.

"How in the world… I understood such things when he was in a human form, but…"

"He's a spirit, Marcone. They don't need a physical form. To be honest he's just in the skull so whoever owns him will always know where he is," I said as I rooted around to find the things I needed.

"It's strange to think of you owning another being."

"Well, I don't like it very much either, but Bob doesn't want to be freed. I've offered to do it hundreds of times, but he always refuses, says he doesn't know what the hell I'll get into if he's not around."

"Couldn't he stay if he wanted to, even if he was freed?"

"No, he'd be pulled back into the Nevernever, where he belongs. He can't survive in sunlight, you know, unless he's got a form from this side of the Nevernever to inhabit, like Mister or the skull. Even in that human body you saw, he couldn't step outside. Ah hah!" I yelled, plucking out a silver ring from a jar. "This look like the right size, or at least close?"

"Yes, it appears to be."

"Cool. I can always adjust it a little when I give it to him, if I have to. And… here's the essence of power. I'm going to have to pick more of that up soon, looks like this is my last piece. Oh, there's the fairy dust!" I plucked up a silvery, metal-like stone and then plucked up my jar of fairy dust. I was able to tell it was actually mine because it all shimmered blue, rather than the rainbow colors of Gard's.

"Are you certain that's all yours?"

"Yup. My fairy dust is blue, and Gard's is rainbow, this was the only essence of power I saw in here anywhere, and, well, if I grabbed a ring out of the wrong jar I don't think anyone's going to be too upset, and if this is hers and she happens to find it missing, I've got no problem giving her one of mine. I've got tons of these, since silver is the best metal for making magic rings."

"Why is your fairy dust all blue? Do you use a different supplier than Gard?"

"I get mine right from the source," I said as we walked out, "I've got a little fairy friend who'll let me collect some in exchange for pizza."

"Pizza?" Marcone asked incredulously, his look of 'god, but he's stupid' still plastered over his features.

"Yeah, they don't even want the expensive kind. They're perfectly happy with the cheap delivery stuff, actually," I said, sliding Bob under one arm and the other supplies under the other as we walked out.

"I never would've guessed it was that easy to control a Fairy."

"Only the wyldfae, and only the weaker ones, like Dewdrops." Marcone nodded, and we walked with each other in companionable (could Marcone and I even _be _companionable?) silence. We got up to my room pretty quickly, and I sat everything down on my desk heavily. I plopped onto my bed, and Marcone joined me without even a second thought, the ass. I thought about shoving him in the floor, for a second, but eventually I decided against it. Hell, I let him pet my hair barely four hours ago, and a hypocrite I am not. The room was silent for a little while and I collapsed backwards onto the bed. Marcone stared at me.

"Harry… I'm a bit curious, are you a magician as well as a wizard?" I blinked.

"Yeah, I guess. My dad was a stage magician, and he used to bring me along with him. He, uh, he always told me I could be his assistant, when I got a little older, but he died before I could. He'd already taught me most of his act, though. You asking because of that thing I was doing with one of your business cards?"

"No, that isn't a magic trick, is it? I was asking because you were speaking as though you were. I didn't know if you were serious or if you were taunting Mr. Anastasi."

"Oh. Well, it's not a trick, but it's something most magicians learn to do. Helps with the sleight of hand, you know? I can do it with damn near anything, if it's not stupidly large, but I can do it better with a coin or something. I can even make it do a little jump at the end." Marcone smiled, and suddenly he flopped down beside me. It was surprisingly comfortable, and I decided not to look too deeply into that.

"If you're a good stage magician, why is it that you don't do birthday parties or something for extra money? I'm certain that with your real magic you'd be quite the star." I shrugged.

"I don't know, some weird sentimentality I think. My dad… I feel like if I did that, he wouldn't like it. I don't know if he ever looks down on me, or if he even cares, but I just… I don't think I could."

"You never struck me as a religious man, Harry," Marcone said, and I felt a light touch begin to raise gooseflesh on my arm.

"I'm not, but Michael's a Knight of the Cross. Knowing him, it's kind of hard not to believe in Him. I'm damn sure he's got a grudge against me though." Marcone laughed, and the hand trailed up higher, up to my neck. My eyes slid closed, not of my volition.

"You truly don't know how attractive you are, Harry," Marcone sighed, and suddenly I was being pressed into the bed by a heap of mob boss. Shit.

"Are you drunk?" That was generally my first thought, whenever someone jumped me.

"Quite sober, tesora," Marcone stated clearly, and then his lips were trailing a gentle path from the top of my cheekbone to the corner of my mouth. I arched up and struggled when I saw him descending on my lips, but he didn't budge, and even when I turned my head away as a last ditch attempt he just started to suck on my neck.

"Fuck, it's whatever's got you then. You're possessed, Marcone, you don't want to do this. You've probably got a nice woman somewhere, yeah? The demon that has you just wants you to take my power. Try to think clearly for a second and get off of me, okay? I'll talk to Bob and fix you up." At the last word, Marcone's tongue was in my mouth, and I squirmed some more, attempting to push him off but only succeeding in feeling something in his pants I really, really didn't want to feel. I finally gave up and kept myself, and my mouth, still until he pulled up for air.

"I haven't got a woman, Harry. I want you. I'm not possessed, nor am I drunk or otherwise impaired. I simply want you, and have since I met you." And that, of course, was when that nice little switch between my brain and my mouth decided to shut off and leave me to fend for myself against a horny mob boss.

"Oh, fuck me," I groaned, and then Marcone ground down against me.

"Gladly," Marcone grunted, and he pulled my duster from my shoulders and tossed it somewhere behind me.

"Damn it, Marcone, you know I didn't mean it like that. Now, take a deep fucking breath, okay? Calm down. You and me? We're not supposed to be doing this. You're a relatively attractive guy, right? I'm a freaky wizard. Get off, and go find someone else."

"You're not a freak," Marcone snarled, and then his lips crashed into mine again. He pulled up. "You're beautiful, inside and out, my tesora," he said, and then his lips were on mine again. He nipped my bottom lip, and slowly, I felt myself start to respond. He groaned and pulled off.

"What's tesora, Marcone?"

"Treasure. You're my treasure, Harry. I love you," he sighed, and his hips shifted against mine. A whimper I'll never admit to slid out of my throat.

"John," I sighed, and then my shirt was being unbuttoned and tossed to the floor, then my pants, and then my underwear. Marcone still perched on me with all his clothes, and I tried to pull some away from him, but he held my hands against the bed. God, what the hell was I doing? This was _Marcone, _mobster Marcone who'd just made some kind of deal with another made guy. Marcone who was probably possessed. Marcone who, up until a little while ago, I assumed wanted me just for my magic. Marcone who'd been flirting with Bob. And that was when the light bulb went off. "Oh, goddamn. Get off of me, now, and fuck off."

"Harry?" Marcone asked quietly, and his free hand, which had begun to trail down my chest, stilled.

"Just… just fuck you, okay? I know what you're doing. Couldn't get Bob, so you're going to get me while he's in the room? Go fuck yourself."

"Harry, what the hell are you saying?" he asked.

"Bob. You were flirting with him, right? Until you found out he was screwing with you. This your revenge, screw with his wizard?"

"Never, Harry. I wasn't flirting with him, I never was. And he was telling you the truth, by the way. About me wanting you. I just didn't want to tell you right then, I wasn't ready to, but tonight, to see another man who certainly wanted you… I can't take it any longer," he groaned, and he was kissing and touching me again. His finger slid across my nipple, toying with it, and my face flamed up. "See? I'll be the best lover you could ask for, dolcezza. I'll be as gentle with you as I can be." I whined.

"I don't… John, I..." Fuck, I hated myself. I could get him off, I knew, but there was something in me, something crying out, and, oh god, I wanted this. I wanted John Marcone. Maybe I always had, honestly, from that very first day.

"Hush, Harry," he said, and he slid down my body like a snake, teeth and lips and tongue everywhere but where I wanted them, and I was harder than I'd ever been.

"John, please," I said, and he laughed.

"Please what?"

"You know what, don't make me say it."

"But I want to hear something dirty from you." Of course he was going to be a damned pervert about this.

"I've asked you to blow me before."

"But not seriously. It's the same as when you say 'fuck me'."

"How do you know I was kidding? Maybe I wanted this too." He shuddered.

"I'll do you if you do me," he whispered, and I nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. Take your pants off, okay? I'll do it, I have before, so I won't hurt you." He stopped moving, and I groaned.

"I thought you said you'd never slept with a man before."

"Sleeping with someone and sucking them off are two different things. We were drunk, and we were horny, so it kind of happened. That's how I found out I liked men too, now take your damned pants off and give me your dick." His hand suddenly gripped my cock, a little too tightly, and I thrust up into his hand. He held fast, like iron.

"Who was he, Harry?" He asked it like a statement, harsher than any order I'd ever heard him give and accompanied by a squeeze of his hand that made me whine. Normally I know I would've told him it was none of his damned business, but right then I was hot, and his eyes were sharply bright, like emeralds instead of old money.

"He was my friend, when I was living in Missouri with Ebenezer. His dad made moonshine, and he'd sneak me some sometimes. We'd get drunk together, me to forget what had happened before I came to Ebenezer and him because he was a normal sixteen year old who felt like the whole damned world was against him. We only did it once, and after that he didn't hang around me anymore. Now, will you let me suck you, and will you suck me?" Marcone's hand went to his fly and he opened his pants with ease before he flipped around to where his dick, surrounded by the fabric of the pants he didn't seem too eager to totally remove, hung over my face and mine was by his lips. I, ever eager, lunged up and took him in my mouth immediately. He groaned, low and deep and loud, and the sound made me twitch. He took me in, and the warm wetness almost had me coming right away. Damn, it had been a while since I got laid.

I worked him as best I could, for being out of practice, but I could hardly get half of him in, and even that much made me gag. He had already gotten me to the root, though, and had my hips held down in a vice grip. They twitched pathetically, and I felt tears dribble from my eyes, and I choked and whined when his tongue did some weird thing to the slit of my dick. He grunted in appreciation, and I felt his nails dig into my hipbones. The shocks of pain were nice, the vibration of his grunt better, and I gave one hard, sudden suck. He jerked up and off me, flipped around so he was right side up again, and I suddenly had three fingers in my mouth instead. I glared in displeasure, but he only rolled his eyes and thrust them deeper into my mouth.

"Suck, tesora, come on. It'll hurt more otherwise, and I promised to be gentle."

"Says the one who already put bruises and nail marks on my hips," I tried to say, but what came out was more along the lines of, "Rn grg hrn hur rng." Marcone laughed, pulled the fingers out, and shoved one up my ass. I'll admit that I cried out, but you would too if a mob boss suddenly started to screw you and you got a finger in your ass the first time and the asshole forgot to take his motherfucking ring off. I will admit, however, that I started thrusting against it much faster than I should have, even when Marcone twisted it roughly, because then it stabbed against some amazing something inside me that made me scream.

"Try to be quiet, yes? I don't want anyone else to hear your pretty voice."

"Ngh," I managed to get out, before I shoved my shaking arm into my mouth and bit down to keep the noise at bay. The finger twisted a little more before another went in beside it and I shouldn't be liking this but I was, and Marcone, no John, was draped over me like expensive fabric, licking at my nipples, nibbling gently then roughly, and I was still crying. He stretched them apart, scissored them, and I was meeting him with every thrust now, loving it a hell of a lot more than I should have and I hated myself.

"Is it good? Do you like this, Harry, my Harry? Will you let me do this again?" I nodded, my head bouncing up and down with barely a thought, and my teeth continued to dig into the flesh of my arm. Marcone slid in a third finger and crept up more, lapping at my neck with long, sure strokes of his tongue. Then his fingers all stabbed into that magical place at once and his teeth dug into my neck and my arm wasn't enough to block the scream when I came. Marcone shook his head like a rabid dog, making deep claiming marks, and I suddenly wanted to touch him, so I pulled his jacket away, tore his button down off, caressed his chest and laughed softly when he gasped. I pulled his head from my neck, then, and pushed him off me to lie on the bed.

"Yeah, John, it's good, but it shouldn't just be good for me, right? You want me? Then _take _me," I said, perching on his hips and running my fingers down his body in a feather-light tease. He snarled and took me by my hips, grinding me up and down against him how he wanted me, and I allowed it with a laugh. It seemed like I'd broken the tiger's cage.

"Little tease, you need to learn to mind your manners. I should bend you over and make you beg, I want to, I want to tie you up and keep you just for me, make you lose control every night until you know nothing but want. I should hold you until you break, until the only thing you can say is my name. I want to collar you and keep you," John gasped, pulling me down especially hard, obviously feeling my own already reawakened hardness, and I grinned.

"You couldn't do any of that to me." And then I was on my back again.

"You really believe that? You're _mine. _I'll carve it into your skin if I have to." He kissed me hard, then flipped me over onto my belly and lifted me by my hips. I figured he was going to fuck me, then, but instead I felt something wet at my opening, and it forced its way inside with ease, squirming and wriggling and I jerked back into his face with a surprised moan.

"Stop," I whimpered, "John, stop it, not that, that's… oh god." His tongue went deeper in me, and then thrust in and out rhythmically, deeply, until I was moving with him. Then he stilled. His tongue was still there, solidly wet inside me, but he didn't move it. It didn't even twitch, and I attempted to move my own hips, to get something, but he held me still. My arms started shaking, giving out, and my upper body collapsed onto the bed. My lower half would have too, if not for his grip, and finally I gave in to what I knew he wanted. "John, please, give me more. Give me something." His tongue pulled out, and I felt a swat on my ass.

"Do you deserve anything? Tell me why I shouldn't just leave you here like this." He slapped my ass again, the other side this time, and the sting went right to my cock.

"Because you're hard too, and you haven't come yet."

"My my, you're still coherent? Isn't that impressive? You don't deserve me until all you can say is please." He manhandled me around until I was sprawled over his lap, my ass in the air, and he spanked it again. "You don't listen to a word I say, Harry. You run out on your crazy, suicidal quests and you think nothing of it, of me, and then you just wander back to your apartment like nothing happened and call everyone but me to tell them you're okay, you're alive, and I'd go insane if I didn't have men on you all the goddamned time." Another slap, and I moaned.

"John, John, I'm sorry, please."

"Tell me you'll stop that, Harry. I'm not naïve enough to think you won't do all you can to help whoever you can, but tell me I'll be the first you call when you're okay, when you need help."

"You will be, John, forever and always." Another hit, and I yelled and cried. I'd never known that something like that would make me this way, and yeah, I'd slapped Susan's ass a few times, but she'd never reacted like I was and I was damn sure I'd never looked like John did and I hiccupped embarrassingly.

"Good boy, you don't know how hard I am, seeing you like this. Crying for me, wanting me, thinking of no one else in the world. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Ask for the moon, you'll have it by tomorrow night, ask for money, for jewels, hell, for the whole damned world, and I'll get it for you." His fingers ran light trails where earlier they'd struck; soothing the flesh there that I knew had to be bright red. I then proceeded to spout the cheesiest crap I could.

"I just want you, John, please, give yourself to me, now," I whined, and I wondered if I'd ever live this down. He picked me up and rolled me onto my back, and I wondered why I was so cool with getting manhandled like this for a second until my legs were tossed over John's shoulders and his cock was pressed against my ass and his pants were still on and my thoughts turned to jelly when he pushed inside me. My face, I knew, was flushed bright pink and my hands gripped in the comforter, but John's fingers ran softly, sweetly along my hip.

"It's alright, my Harry, my tesora, loosen up a little. I don't want to hurt you, I never have," he sighed out in one heavy breath, and I forced myself to relax. He began to thrust in earnest, barely inside, but getting deeper with each movement, easier as I loosened even more, and then he hit that spot again and I hollered until he smashed his lips over mine.

He started to move like an animal, then, wild and uncontrolled, the tiger truly free at last, and I let him. That was what really shocked me. I let him take me like this, with barely any fight, let him use me how he wished, and I was _enjoying _it. I was hard as a rock against my stomach, dripping pre-come steadily, and John pulled from my lips to pant against my neck where his teeth marks still dribbled blood. He kissed the place, licked it lightly, and his hand snaked down to wrap around my cock, where it jerked and pulled far more delicately than I wanted it to. Then his fist clenched around me, his panting grew heavy, and his thrusts erratic.

"Come on, John, please, make me come, please," I knew I was babbling and I knew I didn't care, not when John roared like he did, like the beast he was and his final thrusts were deep and long. We came together with matching cries, and as my legs slid from his shoulders he collapsed on top of me. I passed out a few seconds after.

* * *

Marcone's POV

My breath came heavily, as I pulled out of my Harry and rolled off of him. He lay there limply, his own breath coming out in heavy, steady waves. I kissed him, once, then again, and smiled. My Harry. I'd gotten him, and I wouldn't let him go, ever again. A knock came heavily on the door, and I recognized it as Hendricks. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over Harry before I called that he could come in. The door opened, and I smirked when I saw Hendricks' expression.

"You didn't. You motherfucking didn't." I continued to smirk.

"Didn't what, Nathan?"

"Fuck him. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Is… is his neck bleeding?"

"I believe it is, yes. I bit him."

"So he definitely wasn't asleep, then. Tell me you didn't drug him, John. Tell me he was willing."

"You know I never have or will have another person against their will."

"Other people aren't him, John. I care about you, and I'd trust you with my life, but I can't always believe what you say when it comes to him. Don't dance around the goddamned question. Was he willing?"

"Yes, he was, I swear it to you. I could never harm him." Hendricks nodded at me once, stiff, and I smiled. "Now, what is it that you came in here for?"

"Someone's at the door for you, and I couldn't find you in your room, so I checked here."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Said his name was Morgan, he's some really big motherfucker. Bulkier than me, and he was carrying a sword." I snarled, but Hendricks didn't react. It was a product of the two of us working together for so long, I supposed; he didn't react when I lost my cool, and I didn't react when he lost his. It was good for us, kept us in check. "I assume you know him, then?"

"Not personally, but Harry told me about him. Please, do see him into a common area. I'll get dressed and meet him there. Oh, and after you finish, would you mind bandaging his neck for me? I don't want that to get infected." He nodded obediently, but I still heard him complain under his breath, something about him not getting paid nearly enough to play nursemaid with his boss' boyfriend, but I, as was custom, ignored him and got up as he walked out. I buttoned my pants, found that the shirt I'd been wearing was almost torn in half, with buttons everywhere, and then decided Morgan could deal with seeing my chest, because I already had no respect for him, and it was too damned late for a social call anyway. I shouldn't be expected to be at my best. I tucked the blankets around Harry and pecked his lips one last time before I walked down to the closest common area to the front door.

When I entered the room, I saw a large man swathed in a gray cloak, a sword strapped obviously to his hip. He sat stiffly on one of the chairs, perhaps enjoying the fire I had blazing, and when he saw me he looked at me disapprovingly. I gave the same look back to him and moved to sit in a chair across from him.

"Gentleman Johnny Marcone, current kingpin of Chicago. One of the most powerful average mortals currently known to exist in the United States. Owner of the missing Shroud of Turin." I managed to keep my face blank, but inside I was laughing. Did the fool think he could unnerve me with a trick like that?

"Yes, I do know who I am. What is your point, Mr. Morgan? It is very late, and I've already had one meeting today." He continued to look rather unimpressed with me, and I crossed my legs.

"You are a busy man, I'm sure. I have come here to retrieve the Shroud of Turin on behalf of the White Council."

"I had assumed that was Harry's job. I'm giving it to him in three days, if you can manage to wait that long," I growled out, hating the man even more for what was an obvious attempt to make Harry's quest impossible.

"He _asked _you?" I smirked.

"Yes. He is quite trusting of me, and I him. He's staying here now, actually." I knew that it likely wasn't the best idea to say something like this, for me or Harry himself, but I couldn't resist the words.

"He's staying here. Harry Dresden is staying with a mafia leader. That thrice-damned idiot." His fist clenched around the sword, and I saw the tendons in his arm and neck tense with effort.

"I do not appreciate people insulting my men, and while Harry would never call himself that, he is most certainly mine. Please, if you've nothing else to say, do leave. Having a man who has attempted to kill my Harry in my house is truly unsettling." Morgan laughed, and I glared.

"Yours? Wizard Dresden belongs to the White Council, and has since he killed his master. He's still my charge, actually. And I believe he has been telling you far too much, if you know of such things as our past together. Go fetch him; I believe a few words are in order."

"You've no authority here, and Harry is deeply asleep. I will not wake him for something like this. You are not welcome in my home." The bastard laughed again.

"This is no home, the threshold is nearly non-existent. I could've marched in without invitation and not lost a speck of my power. Go get Wizard Dresden."

"I will not. Those who wish to kill him will not have contact with him, under my watch." At that moment, I saw a surprising explosion take place. Morgan's face reddened, his arm lifted the weapon, and I took a step back, preparing to call for whoever was guarding the door, as my gun had been in my jacket, and I had doubts that a knife would do me any good against a sword and magic, no matter how good I was with the thing.

"You believe that I wish to kill him? You believe that I take relish in the fact that I may have to? It is my job, Mr. Marcone. I have come here wishing Wizard Dresden no ill-will, but instead to help him. I planned to take the Shroud from you and leave it at his door. I do not want him dead, no matter what he may believe or what I may tell him to keep him in line. Hell, I saved his life. I could've easily let him die, that day, if I wanted him dead, but instead I gave him my own breath and helped his wounds."

"I will trust his word before yours. Leave my home," I snarled out, and he took a heavy step forward.

"I will the moment I see him. The longer I wait here, the longer I find myself believing he is not here of his own will." I stood and paced, my eyes on the glinting blade, and I gave a stiff nod.

"Fine. Follow me, Mr. Morgan, and I will allow you to look into his room. I tell you again, however, that he is asleep, and I don't wish for him to be awoken. Leave that sword in here, by the way. I will not risk you using it on me or mine." He nodded once, still stiff, and the sword was unstrapped from his hip and placed on one of the chairs. It caused his robe to fall in a loose heap around him, and I couldn't help but think I'd rather see Harry in a robe again than stare at that prick. I led him up the stairs and around to Harry's room, the door to which I opened and stepped inside.

I noted that Hendricks was sitting on the bed by Harry, wiping the blood from his neck and holding some crisp, white bandages. I smiled slightly, but Morgan's reddened face grew steadily redder with rage.

"What has happened? Has a Red Court Vampire been here? Or a Black Court member?" I stared at him blankly.

"No. You have seen him now, so will you leave?"

"He's sleeping through antiseptic, and he isn't even twitching. Something is wrong with him. He jerked even when he was near death when I assisted him."

"So you are related to Harry. I figured as much. Having him around is going to be damned annoying," Hendricks mumbled, lifting Harry's head so he could wrap the bandages around the bite. Perhaps I had dug in a bit too much.

"Then give him back to me. I'll escort him to a safe house; get him out of your hair. He is rather troublesome, I know." Hendricks laughed and revealed the reason why he was my right hand.

"Pain in the ass he is, but he's a pain in the ass I'm supposed to protect with my life. Like hell I'm letting you cart him off some place without John's say so. By the way, John, you might want to carry him to the bathroom when this guy leaves. He's a little dirty, and he'll be pissed in the morning if you don't clean him up." I nodded, and I saw Morgan's hand tense in preparation for a sword that wasn't there as he strode into the room and shoved the unsuspecting Hendricks out of the way.

"Wizard Dresden and I do not have the best working relationship. I am of the belief that he may become a warlock, if he isn't already, but that does not mean I wish him death, or captivity. Besides, I am a Warden, and it is my responsibility to care for all of those in the magical community," he said clearly, obviously attempting the 'all business' route he would have assumed I appreciate. And in normal situations I do, but not in situations relating to Harry, especially not now, after I've had him. Morgan pulled the blanket away, and I lunged forward. I landed a hit, of course, due to his shock at seeing Harry with bruises, nail marks, and come splattered on him, and I was able to hold him down for a few seconds until a wall of force suddenly slammed into me and I crashed into the wall. I stumbled to my feet, pulled a knife from my ankle, and looked at Hendricks as he rapidly dialed Gard and called for her to get to Harry's room. Then he pulled a gun out of his jacket and aimed it at Morgan, who was quickly regaining his balance and pulling a blasting rod from the sleeve of his coat. I felt like an idiot for not checking him for other weapons.

"Get the hell out of my damned house," I snarled, crouching low, ready for any physical attack but knowing without a doubt that a magical one would end me where I stood. I heard Hendricks click the safety off his gun as Gard burst through the door. Her razor sharp eyes took in Harry, lying limply on the bed but quite obviously stirring, the angered Morgan, and then Hendricks and I. Her eyes narrowed, and a voice far louder than the one she normally used ripped from her throat.

"You will all drop your weapons immediately, and we will discuss this like civil creatures, not rabid beasts!" Harry woke up with a jolt.

"Wha' tha hell is goin' on? Stars, sounds like a fuckin' gladiator battle or somethin'," the black haired man grunted, running a hand through his hair. "Shit, my neck hurts."

"Wizard Dresden. Go clean yourself up, we are leaving." Harry blinked, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and Gard stepped forward.

"He will be remaining here, and I do not believe you have the authority to prevent that. Come," she growled, and I felt more grateful than ever that she was under my employ, but Hendricks appeared ready to pass out. I was wondering whether to laugh at them or kill Morgan, but the conflicting emotions were kept from my face as Gard easily dragged the man out and shut the door behind her, him squawking and protesting the whole way. I did snicker a little as I moved over to Harry with a bit of a limp. Being slammed against a wall is not something a regular mortal can simply get up from, much as I hate to admit that. I saw Hendricks click the safety back on and slide the gun back into his coat as I shut my knife and slipped it back into my ankle holster. Harry was still staring bemusedly from the bed.

"Was, uh, was that Morgan? What the hell was he doing here? And why do I feel like I got hit by a fucking truck?" he grunted, and I smirked, an answer prepared in my head, but Hendricks spoke up first.

"Yeah, it was Morgan. I think he was here to get you, but Gard will take care of him. And you feel like you got hit by a truck because you got hit with a cock, and John likes to bite." Harry collapsed backwards suddenly and I ran to his side.

"Oh, hell. I did sleep with you, didn't I? Hell. Where's the bathroom? I'm sure I look like shit. Hell's Bells, Morgan saw me like this, didn't he? The council's going to be up in arms." He was babbling, and I smiled, patting his arm.

"It's alright. Come, I'll help you clean yourself off, alright?" Harry just grunted again and slung his arm over my shoulder. Was this acceptance, I wondered? Did it mean he was willing to be in a relationship with me? I walked him easily into the bathroom connected to his room with only the words to Hendricks to wait outside the door.

I filled the tub with warm water and helped him in, carefully scrubbing away the dried come on his chest despite his protests that he could do it himself, then turned him around and grabbed a soft rag to dab at his ass. Harry hissed and I stroked his back, continuing to gently rub away the remnants of what we'd done earlier in the evening.

"This is really stupid, you know that, John? I've always thought you were pretty attractive, you know? Just didn't want to admit it-fuck, that hurts! But I never thought about doing this with you. You're not… you're not who I thought I'd end up with. You're a criminal scumbag, you do nearly everything I hate, and I know you're necessary but that sure as hell doesn't mean I have to like it or you. I don't… I don't know about this. I'm used to fighting you, constantly, I'm used to insults, but I'm not used to affection. But I slept with you, and I don't do that with many people. Hell, you're only the third person, actually. I don't do it lightly, and you and I both know I could've gotten you off of me if I'd wanted to. This thing that's going on between us… it's got to mean something or I'm leaving right now." I smiled, and stilled in my movements, as I'd gotten him clean. I helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel, being careful of the bruises and nail marks I'd left.

"I think the same thing, dolcezza. I love you, and I know I said that earlier, although I understand that those words mean far less in the heat of passion, but it was the truth then and it is the truth now. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, and I want to be with you, if you'll have me." Harry smiled, a real, genuine smile without a trace of a joke or sarcasm. It made my heart clench, shudder in my chest, and I held him tight to me as I walked him back into his room. Hendricks sat by the door with Gard. "He's gone?"

"Unhappily, but yes. I escorted him out and, hopefully, brought him the understanding that he was no longer welcome here, and that your men would have no problem putting a bullet through him if he set foot on your property again." I smiled, and Harry punched me in the arm.

"Pay attention to me, prick. You're the one that wanted me, and now you've got me. I've got to warn you, though, I'm pretty hard to handle." I patted his arm and helped him into bed with a soft kiss.

"I expected as much, from you. Go to sleep, alright? I'll wake you up in the morning." Harry glared sleepily, his hand clenched around my wrist even as I pulled the blankets around him.

"Sleep with me, asshole. I don't like sleeping alone, and Mister's long run off somewhere." I could hardly contain my happiness. Harry, my Harry, wanted me to sleep beside him! It was an odd dream, one I'd never thought would come true, but I'd not question it.

"Alright. Nathan, Sigrun, you're both dismissed for the evening. Nathan, meet me by the door at about seven thirty tomorrow. I've got a job for you." They both nodded, kind smiles on their faces, and left the room quickly. I pulled off my pants and my knives and curled in beside Harry, whose head flopped onto my chest with surprising ease. I was asleep faster than I had been since before I became Gentleman Johnny.

* * *

Harry's POV

When I woke up that next morning, and found my head on John-fucking-Marcone's chest, I flipped my shit. When I remembered everything that had happened the night before (including the fact that I was the one who requested John sleep beside me), I made the lamp explode. John shot up, hand reaching for a gun that wasn't there, and then he just stared at me for a second.

"Are you alright, cucciola mia?"

"I… I slept with you. I enjoyed myself. I asked you to sleep in my bed." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do realize all of that. I was there too, you understand."

"No, no you don't. I slept with you. You're the bad guy. Hell's Bells, this isn't happening." John smiled, and I noticed that his chest was bare and I was naked and oh fuck.

"If you were going to go into a crisis about this, I would've thought you'd have done it last night, perhaps while I bathed you."

"I was half asleep, John. God, what's Michael going to say? What's _Murphy _going to say? I just… I mean, I just broke up with Susan, and the thing with the vampires, and the council… shit, why did I do that? I could've gotten you off. I _should've _gotten you off." I didn't miss the hurt look on John's face, the devastated sadness that filled his eyes. I'd never seen him show that much emotion before, and a pang of guilt stabbed through my heart. Fuck. I couldn't feel guilty about John looking sad. Then I realized I was only thinking of him as John, now, that Marcone just felt inherently wrong. Fuckity fuck.

"I'm… sorry for taking advantage of you, then. Had I known you were so against it, I would not have touched you. Well, at least you've gotten me up at the right time. I'll step out so you may dress, and I'll wait for you at the door. I can ask Gard to drop you off at your office, if you don't wish to be driven by me." He stood stiffly, bent and grabbed his clothes, dressed as best he could without an in-tact shirt, and got over to the door before I managed to leap up and grab him. My hands were shaking, yet somehow stiff and awkward in a way they'd never been before, and they clutched tightly enough in his jacket that I could nearly hear the tiny holes tearing open. I didn't even notice I was still naked.

"Don't… apologize. I, uh, I wanted it too. I won't lie about that. Consent is mostly a mortal issue anyway, but… I'm glad you care enough to apologize. Again, you don't have to, but still. The gesture is nice. And yeah, I'm freaking out a little, because this is against everything I've ever said or done and I don't really know what to do but the longer I'm here the more I feel like I like you a hell of a lot more than I thought I did, and maybe that's why I'm freaking out, but I don't fuck and run, I never have, so since we've done that I maybe don't mind trying out the other relationship type things with you but-" his lips slammed against mine, and I felt myself stumble backwards as I ended up with an armful of mafia boss. He pulled away and kissed my cheek, my jaw, hell, even my nose, and he was beaming. John Marcone was beaming. It made the age lines in his face lighten, made his eyes sparkle, and it made me smile too.

"You don't know how happy I am, Harry, my Harry. It was nice, when you seemed to accept me last night, but this… you are truly awake now, aren't you? I won't have to suffer through any more of your doubts?"

"No… I don't think you will, John. Like I said, I don't have sex unless the feeling is strong, and real. Even if I didn't realize it at the time, maybe don't even fully realize it now, I've got some kind of feelings for you. I spread my legs for you, so I'm going to try and have this relationship. Now, do you think you can get off of me? I'm not exactly comfortable getting hugged when I'm naked." He stepped back, halfway out the door, and smiled a pleasant, businessman's smile.

"You didn't mind it last night." I growled and sent a light wind to shove him the rest of the way out the door and close said door behind him. I could still hear him laughing as he walked down the hallway, and no, I most certainly did not pout the entire time I was getting dressed and grabbing my things. And also, no, Bob did not make perverted comments about me riding an Italian sausage the entire way down to the front door, no matter what John's guys might be saying.

When I saw John at the front door, he was dressed in a t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin, showing off the defined muscle usually hidden by his designer suits, and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. He was even wearing _tennis shoes, _and a baseball cap to cover his mussed hair and shield his face. He looked… good. Like a guy I'd hit a bar with, a guy I'd flirt with if I were more sure of myself and a little less of a coward. And don't you dare try and say a guy who can set monsters on fire can't be a coward at flirting.

I walked out with John at my side, and instead of getting into one of his usual dark sedans or limos he led me to a small, compact black car. I had to nearly fold myself in half to get into it, and my things had to go in the back seat with the Shroud, but John only snickered softly.

"Is this thing going to blow up halfway down the road?" John shook his head.

"Gard charmed it as well."

"I wish she'd teach me that little trick. The Beetle, and my wallet, would probably really appreciate it. My mechanic might get a little pissed, though. I'm pretty sure I'm his main source of income at this point." John laughed.

"I'd ask her to give it to you, but I'm afraid I simply can't, in good conscience, allow a small business owner to go under because you're tired of your car breaking down. Besides, he's a very admirable man, if he can make that damned thing keep running after you've owned it for so long." I snickered, a little surprised at how easy, how natural this all felt. I was in a car with a man I'd called my enemy more than once, but it felt like the car rides I'd taken with Michael, barring attempts to get me to admit my love towards Susan.

"Hey, I love the Beetle! She's served me well over the years. I don't know what I'd do without that car, since the only other real option I've got is calling in a truck from Ebenezer, and a truck is hell on Chicago streets. I don't know how Michael deals with it," I grunted, my head propped against the window so I wouldn't have to deal with my head smashing against the roof every time we went over a bump.

"The power of God is great. Perhaps He knocks traffic out of the way for his favored people."

"Then I damn sure know He hates me now. I can never go on this road without being blocked in by some prick." John hummed, and suddenly at car's atmosphere grew serious.

"Harry, we're nearing your office, but I would very much like it if you'd go on my errand with me. It's… I believe it's something I'd like you to see. I trust you." That hit me like a punch to the chest. He trusted me? Trust is… it's a big thing with me. I didn't give it or receive it lightly. Did I trust John? Right then… I couldn't say, but he trusted me and that was enough. Whatever it was he wanted me to see, I'd see it, and I'd take it to my grave, unless he asked me to do otherwise. I'm good at keeping secrets.

"Uh… yeah, I don't mind. I'll go with you." He nodded, gave a tight smile, and turned the car sharply enough that my head knocked first against the window, and then the top of his head. He winced.

"I knew you were hardheaded, dolcezza, but this is a bit ridiculous," he grunted, sending a light glare my way, and I grinned, glad the mood had seemed to lift again. I usually don't like tension, since it generally means I'm about to die.

"Shut up, you wouldn't like me nearly as much if I wasn't a loveable, hardheaded ass." A laugh fell from John's throat, not as something cliché, like bells, but harsher, with a touch of a growl.

"Quite true, I suppose," he said, and we went on bantering back and forth for hours until it was late afternoon, we'd crossed the state line into Wisconsin, and we were pulling into a nondescript parking lot. Marcone took one of the back spaces, got out of the car, and grabbed the Shroud from the backseat before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, and then came around to open my car door and help me out. I had a sudden understanding of why it pissed Murphy off so much when I did that to her, and I told John as much as we walked in, but he only managed a small half-smile. Tension had pulled him taut, stiffened his face and tightened his muscles, and his breath was coming heavily, a little loudly.

We stepped forward side-by-side, and a woman at a reception desk sent John a small, sweet smile. A few nurses walked by, and I tensed a little. Me and hospitals didn't exactly have the best relationship, thanks to all the X-Ray machines I've made end their lives prematurely. I shifted, wanting to run like hell and get my ass out, but John's hand quested mine out and gripped it tightly. He led us up to the reception desk and the woman smiled again.

"Hello, Mr. Malcolm. It's good to see you again, and it appears you've brought a friend with you," she said, her voice quiet and soothing. I barely even registered that apparently John didn't use his own name here.

"Hello, it's good to see you as well, Suzanne. This is Harry, very important. I felt he should know about… her." His grip on my hand tightened, and I tightened my own grip in return. The motion seemed to comfort him. The receptionist, Suzanne, nodded.

"Well, she needs more people to come visit her. Hardly no one comes by for her, you know, since we've got no idea who she is. She's lucky to have you, and now, I suppose she'll be lucky to have him. Go on up, alright? The button to alert the nurses that I'm letting you in doesn't seem to be working for some reason, so if anyone asks just tell them I said you could be there." I blushed, and John managed another small smile as he led me through as set of heavy double doors, passed the elevator (which I mentally thanked him endlessly for), and up a few flights of stairs. We went through a cool metal door marked in big letters with Doe, Jane, and I winced when I saw the girl inside.

She was young, I supposed, maybe in her late teens, and her hair, a pale blonde, spilled out in a halo around her head. She was thin, too, but in an unhealthy looking way, and her blankets were crisp and unwrinkled around her. She was in a coma then, I thought, and Marcone moved us forward as if in a trance. He sat the Shroud, which I now noticed was wrapped around a few other things, on the table by her bed, and wrapped his now free hand around hers. My thumb ran over the back of his hand in what I hoped was a comforting way, and his eyes clenched closed. His mouth was moving too, I noticed, and he had to have been praying. I'd never pegged him as the type, but this girl had to have been special, and I wondered for a second, maybe irrationally, if there was anything I could do. Marcone's prayer ended and he lifted his head, revealing that his eyes were a little damp.

"John, who is she?" I asked him softly, and he swallowed harshly.

"Amanda Beckitt. She was… shot, long ago. Her parents blame me. I blame me. I've… I've done what I can, I got her placed here. This is the best long-term care facility in the nation, but… she won't wake up. The doctors don't know why; say that medically she's fine. I thought… I thought that perhaps the Shroud would help, that it would wake her up," he croaked out, and I nodded.

"Go ahead and put it over her, then. Would you mind if I did something?"

"What?" he asked, pulling off the outermost blanket and delicately placing the Shroud over her still, limp body. He tucked the edges under the outer blanket to hide it, and the care he showed made me smile.

"I want to look at her with my Sight." He nodded.

"As I've said, I trust you. If you think that will do any good, then you're welcome to." At his agreement, I opened my Sight, and stumbled backwards at what I saw.

Like all children, she was wrapped in a white circle of light, but instead of it being perfect and unbroken, there was a shadowy, dark spot on her head. Black smoke poured from it, and it was a little sickening. I felt tears start falling from my eyes, but ignored them and looked harder. The fact that I saw anything at all meant that her spirit was still within her, that it was still possible for her to wake up. I reached out towards her head, and ran my fingers over the black spot. It was cold, I noticed, like empty ice, and the smoke felt solid. I wrapped my hand around it and pulled, but it stayed solid, stayed attached to her, so I carefully opened her eyes and stared into them for a second. John obviously knew what I was doing, but he didn't stop me, so I kept at it, and felt myself being pulled into her soul.

It was a bedroom, soft and filled with gauzy pinks and whites, like any little girl's dream room. There was a girl sitting on the canopy bed, her legs swaying back and forth, and she was obviously Amanda, though much younger, much healthier than the version of her on the hospital bed. I figured she hadn't realized that her appearance had changed. Hell, she might not have even realized that she was in a coma anyway.

"Who're you?" she asked, her voice sweet, and I attempted a smile.

"My name is Harry. What're you doing in here, anyway? A lot of people miss you," I said, keeping my voice soothing and gentle. I had to tread lightly whenever the person was actually in their soul, because then they'd have the power to kick me out if they wanted to. I wondered if any part of her was seeing inside me, and shifted on my feet.

"Oh, I like the name Harry. My name's Amanda! Do you want to sit with me for a while? It's lonely here. Will you play with me?" I found myself nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, Amanda. But not in here. You've got to wake up first, and then I'll play with you." She pouted.

"I don't want to. Play with me in here, please? You're special, so you can stay with me forever, right?" I shook my head.

"I can't do that, Amanda. People need me, and they need you too. Why don't you want to wake up? There's a whole wide world out there, just waiting for you."

"No!" she yelled, and I felt a pulling. I had to fight to stay in her soul, fight until the tug eased. "No. If I wake up, no one will care anymore. I'll be even more alone out there than I am here. Mommy hardly ever comes anymore, and she'll always be away if I'm awake, and Mr. Johnny won't visit me anymore. He's reading to us now, you know. You two care about each other too, right? If… if I keep you in here with me, he'll probably never leave again! I can see that your life is hard too, so… so you'd have to enjoy not having to be out there anymore!" I shook my head.

"John cares about you, Amanda. If you wake up, he won't love you any less. He'll probably love you more, actually. He'd never let anything bad happen to you again. Just let go of your wound's darkness, and you'll wake up, and you can be happy again." She glared at me.

"You're lying! Get out! Get out, get out! I don't want you here anymore, and I don't want to look at your insides anymore either! Get out!" She gave one final yell, one final push, and I was sent sprawling out of her and on the floor. John was at my side to help me up quickly, and even wiped away all the tears that had flooded down my cheeks.

"Are you alright, Harry? Both of your mouths were moving, and you were crying. She was too, a little. I haven't seen her move since I brought her here. Is she… is she going to wake up?" I winced. I didn't want to tell him what had happened, really, not after all the care he showed for her. I didn't want to upset him, but the look in his eyes, piercing and strong… I had to.

"I'm fine. I talked to her, in her soul, and she doesn't want to wake up. She feels like she'll be more alone than she is now if she does. You need… try talking to her, yeah? Tell her that you'll still love her, even when she wakes up. That you'll still take care of her and spend time with her. That's what she needs. She feels abandoned, and if she stops feeling that way, then there's a good chance she'll wake up." He nodded, helped me to a seat, and picked the book back up. There was a teddy bear in her arms, I noticed, and I couldn't help but smile as John read aloud. We sat there for an hour, maybe more, until he slid the mark in and we left together.

* * *

It was close to six o'clock when we got back to Chicago, and it was about six thirty when we pulled into my office and I walked up to my door. The young Johnny sat in front of it, obviously half asleep with his head between his knees. I felt, quite suddenly, like a huge ass for forgetting that there was a chance of him showing up, and shifted all my things around in my arms. I suddenly wished I'd taken John up on his offer to help me get my things upstairs as I shook his shoulder. He jolted up and grinned at me happily.

"Harry! I've been waiting here since your office was supposed to open, and I was getting worried! I thought something had happened, or that you were just going to stay away until you thought I'd give up, or really anything! I went to see all of those guys, and I don't want to work with any of them! I want to work with you!" I sighed. Of course he did.

"Whatever. Here, will you hold this stuff while I unlock the door? Be really careful with that skull, by the way." I plopped the things in his arms and tugged my key from one of the many deep pockets of my duster, then managed to work the door open. My office door isn't nearly as bad as my apartment door, but it's still pretty shitty. I took my stuff back from Johnny and walked inside, before dropping it all down on my desk and collapsing in my chair. Johnny sat across from me, and swung his feet from his place in the chair.

"So you are going to take me on, right?" I couldn't help but laugh at the eagerness in his voice.

"If you want me that bad, then yeah, why not? And hell, you'll get to see me do something suitably magical right now. I owe a favor, so I'm going to fix up a force ring. Wanna help out?" He nodded, and his hair flopped around his face. I noticed he kept it a little too long, like I did mine, and thought that maybe we had more in common than I'd figured at first. "Cool. Hey, Bob! Wakey wakey!" I called, and the skull yawned. Johnny fell out of his chair.

"W-What _is _that?" he questioned, and Bob snickered.

"The name's Bob. Good to meet you." The boy blinked, shifted, looked like he wanted to hold out a hand to shake, and stilled.

"Um. You too. But, uh, why does… Harry, do you do necromancy or something?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"Nah, Bob isn't actually the skull. I mean, yeah, he lives in it, but it's not him, you know? Bob is a Spirit of Air and Intellect who holds information and gives it out as needed. I brought him to make sure I didn't fuck up the ring. Anyway, Bob, this is Johnny. Johnny, Bob." Johnny calmed down pretty quickly after that, and settled back into the chair as I started pouring out the required amount of fairy dust onto an old napkin I'd found on my desk.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" I asked distractedly, and cursed when I dropped the plastic spoon I'd dug out of my duster to measure with.

"What happened to your neck? It's all bandaged up. Did you fight a vampire or something?" I glared at the wall behind Johnny's head, imagining for a second that John was hanging on it by those damned knives of his. That bite still hurt like hell, the prick.

"I guess you could say that. Would you mind grinding this up for me?" I asked, handing him the Essence of Power stone and the mortar and pestle I kept in a drawer. Just in case. Okay, yeah, I'm a packrat. Sue me. He nodded rapidly; apparently either not noticing or ignoring the fact that I'd changed the subject, and overeager to be of assistance. We worked in silence for a while, with me carefully binding the now-ground stone and the fairy dust to the silver ring and him watching raptly, even going so far as to scribble the incantation I'd been using in a notepad. The ring shone brightly purple, and I smiled a little, unable to help recalling the first time Bob and I had made one of these. He'd cursed at me the entire time, I think because I attempted to do the binding without grinding the stone, and with old, wet fairy dust that had long stopped sparkling and gotten clumped together. I'd just laughed, and I'd worn that ring for years, until it suddenly disappeared a few months ago and I'd had to make a new one. Come to think of it, that had been around the time my house had been broken into, too. Maybe they were connected, though there hadn't been any news of people being crushed. I guessed whoever had taken it had just given it to a pawnshop and had it scrapped for the silver. Johnny stared at me. "Uh… you wanna try?"

"Can I?" he asked excitedly, bouncing in his seat, and I suddenly wasn't sure if he was really even sixteen.

"Sure. Come here, okay? Have you ever done anything with your magic before? Like produced an effort of will?" He nodded.

"Good. Just do that, then. Let the magic out in a thin stream, matching the pattern of your voice as you speak," I mumbled, and he started repeating the words I'd used. The ring kept up its purple glow, and by the end of an hour the ring was mostly done. "Alright, now we've just got to charm it. What was that charm again, Bob?"

"Vim Copia," Bob rattled off easily, and I nodded and repeated the words, sending my will through. The ring glowed orange for a second after that, and I smiled.

"Well, all done with that, I guess. Hey, you said you wanted to learn fuego, right?" Johnny nodded, a bright grin on his face.

"Definitely! Can you really teach me right now?" I shook my head.

"You've got to make yourself a focus, first. A blasting rod will probably serve you well, since you're interested in fire. Come on; let's go visit my friend, alright? He'll have some wood on hand that we can use. Bob, do you want to come along?" The skull turned side to side.

"I don't think I really need to. You can give me my day some other time, alright? I know you'll keep your promise, you always do. Hell, I don't really even want a day. It's more I just want to talk, and we can probably do that tonight, right?" I nodded.

"Sure thing, Bob. We can probably go to Gard's lab; say we're working on something important, right?" Bob smiled, and the skull bounced up and down in an affirmative. "Did you walk here or what, Johnny?" He shook his head as we stepped out of the office.

"I rode a motorcycle. But we can walk if you want! You know, if you're not okay with riding behind me." I waved a hand dismissively.

"It's no problem. I ride behind my friend Murphy all the time. She's got a thing for motorcycles, you know? And obviously yours isn't too twitchy around you, so it should be fine around me." He nodded, and straddled the bike before he tossed me a helmet. I climbed on after him and strapped it to my head, sighing when I found that it didn't fit correctly. After all the stuff I've faced, I'm going to end up dying in a motorcycle crash, and it would all be because of helmet companies that didn't cater to people like me. I could already almost hear my enemies laughing about it. I should write a strongly worded letter. He started the thing up and I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, though I was pretty sure I looked almost as stupid as I did when I rode a bike with Murphy. I had to yell to give him directions to Michael's place, but we pulled up without any injury, although I'm almost positive that it was only some quick thinking on Johnny's part that prevented a large semi-truck from running us over, and no, I do not care that Johnny said that there had been no danger at all in that situation, and that the truck was not going to hit us at any point. He just didn't have the good vantage point I did.

Anyway, we walked up through Michael's white picket fence, through his perfectly manicured lawn, and knocked on his hardwood door (god, how cliché could he get?). However, instead of the Knight I was expecting, Charity answered the door. Of fucking course.

"Mr. Dresden. Come to nearly get my husband killed again?" I sighed.

"No, Charity. Michael won't even need to leave the house. I picked up an apprentice at Mac's yesterday, and he needs a blasting rod. I came to get wood." She sighed, and propped the door on her hip.

"Wait outside, then. Daniel's doing homework on the computer, and I'd rather you not destroy it." The door shut in my face, and I really hoped this wasn't one of those times that she said she was going to get Michael and instead never came back. I supposed I could always climb into their backyard to get him again, but the last time I'd done that she'd nearly called the cops for trespassing, and I really, really don't need a criminal record. I found out I didn't have to worry about it when Michael came to the door a few seconds later.

"Hello, Harry! It's been ages since I've seen you! Have you been well? And who's this?" he asked, a bright smile on his face as he gestured to Johnny. I returned his smile, and lunged forward to hug him. He returned the affection, and I pulled back.

"Nice to see you too, Michael. This is Johnny, who is apparently my apprentice now. I'll probably have to register him pretty soon, but first I thought we could maybe get started on making him a focus, so I came here to get some wood. You've got the good stuff," I said with a grin, and Michael returned it.

"Of course! As long as you promise me you won't get such a nice looking young man involved in your less pleasant work."

"Never planned to, Michael. I mean, stars, I tried to get him to go to someone else, but he was determined I was his best match. Not much I can do about it."

"I suppose not. Please, come along to the back of the house, alright? I'll let you choose from what I have in my shed." I nodded, and Johnny nearly cowered behind me. I couldn't help but think it was a little weird. Yeah, Michael was a big guy alright, but no taller than me, and pretty obviously a teddy bear. There wasn't a reason to be scared of him, and I told Johnny so as we stepped around to the back gate of the house. Johnny pouted at me.

"I'm not scared!" he hissed as we stepped into the shed behind Michael, and I smirked.

"Sure. Anyway, what kind of wood do you want, kid?" He pursed his lips, stepping over to the wall where Michael had a bunch of types labeled and displayed for anyone that wanted him to do a job to choose from.

"What kind is yours?" I blinked.

"Why does it matter? My blasting rod has special meaning to me. Yours should have special meaning to you. Pick whatever type you think looks good." He sighed, and finally grabbed at some sort of dark wood with a name I couldn't pronounce. "Cool. Think we can burn runes into that without setting more than we want on fire?" I asked Michael, and he nodded.

"You should be able to. It's a similar type of wood to yours, and you didn't have a problem with it, did you?" I shook my head.

"Not really. The one I've got now came together pretty easily. I sort of learned from my first one." Michael quirked an eyebrow.

"You've had more than one?" Johnny shifted a little at my side, and stood a little closer to me.

"Yeah. I made the damned-" Michael stopped me with a glare, "darned thing out of pine wood. Had to douse it in chemicals, but it lasted me a while. It didn't get broken until a few months after I moved here, but honestly that's probably because I was never really fighting any monsters in Hogwallow, Missouri." Michael laughed. "So, how much will about… ten planks of that wood run me?"

"I believe it would break your bank, although I'd planned on giving it to you for free," he said, smiling in his genial way. I shook my head.

"He's my apprentice, so I'm not taking handouts for him. Ebenezer paid for everything for me out of his own pocket, so I'm doing the same for him. I'll scrape together the cash, so how much is it?" Michael sighed, but an annoyed smile remained on his face.

"One hundred. It's very high quality, and it's generally only used when I build the homes of the very wealthy." I nodded.

"So basically it's mine on steroids. If you'll give it to me now, I promise I'll pay you as soon as I get a case, okay? I'll be good for it," I said, and Michael laughed again.

"Of course, Harry. I'll pack it up for you now, and you may pay me whenever you can. But don't you dare neglect your bills to pay this debt, Harry."

"I would never," I said with a grin, and I felt Johnny grab my coat. I wondered what was wrong with him as Michael dropped the case of wood into my arms, and we walked out together. Michael waved at me, and I gave a goodbye in response, since my arms were full, and when Johnny and I got back onto his bike, I found it difficult to balance it, but I did manage it. I was a little confused, though, when Johnny didn't drive back to my office, and instead took me to some old, rundown area of town. Half of the buildings looked like they were built out of wood, and I wondered if we were in Old Town or some similar area. "Where are we going, Johnny?" I yelled, and he managed to hear me over the wind.

"To my apartment! I thought we'd be more comfortable carving there than in your office!" he yelled back, and even though I was confused, I nodded. I could understand someone being more comfortable in their own home. A few miles later, he pulled up to an old wooden thing that seemed to lean precariously to one side. And John had complained about the boarding house I lived in not being up to code. It was a pretty sure thing, though, that he didn't own any buildings in this part of town, if they looked like this. One thing I could always say about John, when he bought a building, he fixed it up and took damn good care of it. Anyway, Johnny was quick to take the bundle of wood from me, and he led me into the building. It was filled with furniture, all of it in an old 1800's style. How the hell was this kid affording this? I, never one to censor my words, asked just that. "My family was pretty wealthy, and when my parents died, they left me a lot of money. And I've always been interested in the period of Chicago from before the Great Fire, so I bought things that would've been used around that time. It works out pretty well, too, since I don't have to worry about any technology freaking out on me." I nodded.

"That's cool, I guess. It was an interesting period in Chicago's history. Anyway, you wanna get started?" He nodded. "Alright then. Go grab a knife out of your kitchen, okay?" He nodded rapidly, happily, and ran to some other area of the large house. He came back about five minutes later with a small pen knife as well as some type I couldn't name with a long, sharp looking blade. "Yeah, those'll work well. I'll get the basic shape for you, like Ebenezer did for me. Oh, hey, can you maybe grab a pencil and a piece of paper too?" He ran off again without question, and I'd make a bet that Ebenezer wished I was that obedient when he was training me. By the time he got back, I'd burned out a shape that was pretty close to a proper blasting rod, and was carefully smoothing it down and working the splinters off. It was damn nice wood, I noted, and it was easy to work with without burning it to worthlessness.

"That's so awesome!" he said with a bright grin, coming to perch on his knees beside me and watch what I was doing. I smiled.

"Not really. You'll learn to do this in your sleep easily, like lighting candles. Stuff like this is easy to manage, unless you're burned out," I said, handing him the newly carved piece of wood. He held it reverently, and looked up at me with wide eyes.

"Burned out?"

"Yeah. If you use too much magic all at once, then you get burned out and can't do it for a while. I've ended up so tapped out I had to fight to break a damned security camera. That doesn't really matter, though. If I've got anything to say about it, you're not ever going to end up that way. Now, tell me stuff you believe it, stuff that's important to you, so I can write down the runes for them and you can start carving them in. I'll show you how to burn over them after you've carved them a few times."

"What runes do you use? I believe in anything you do, and if something's important to you, then it's important to me," he said, edging closer to me, and there was suddenly a strange darkness in his eyes, and I felt the tingle of a hell of a lot more magic than he should've been able to gather tingling against my skin. Oh, shit. This kid wasn't human.

I jumped up and reeled backwards towards the door, groping for the handle blindly, and pulled it open. I cursed again when I saw outside, because the whole damned place suddenly looked new, the wooden buildings clean and no longer leaning to one side or the other. Shit, shit, shit. I was in the goddamned Nevernever. The house I was in had to mark some kind of weak spot in the barrier. I felt arms wrap around my waist, and jumped. The arms tightened painfully, too strong to really belong to a sixteen year old boy. I'd fucked up bad, and I wondered how he had been able to mask himself so well, and wondered what he actually was. Now that I was looking for something off, I could tell he was masking some sort of aura, some sort of something that would've told me what he was from a mile off. And apparently Gard and I had both missed it, as had Michael, meaning that the he was dangerous, and I was trapped with him in the Nevernever. Hell's fucking Bells.

"Why are you trying to run away? This part of the Nevernever is based on old Chicago, the Chicago from before the fire. I know how much you like this part of history, how you've always wished you could've seen it, so I shaped this place for you, before I revealed myself to you. You're too trusting, Harry, but you don't have to worry about that now, because I'm going to keep you safe forever. You won't age here, I've checked, so you don't even have to worry about dying, and if you want I can even let some of your friends come visit sometimes, so you won't have to miss them. But you can't see that mobster anymore! He's dangerous, and I brought you here to keep you safe!" I squirmed and attempted to break free of his hold, but he was able to hold me fast with one arm and slam the door shut with his free one. He then, of course, pulled my blasting rod from my duster and dropped it on the ground, before he dragged me up a flight of stairs and into a large bedroom. He shut that door behind us too.

"What the hell are you?" I hissed, continuing to twist and jerk in his grip even though by now I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get loose. He blinked, and his grip slackened a little to allow him to look up at me. His eyes had brightened from brown to glimmering gold, and I cursed again.

"I'm a fairy." Fighting wouldn't do me any good. It'd probably just end up pissing him off even more, and while that was generally my prerogative, doing so while in the Nevernever would be one of my dumber moves. I went still, and his arms fell away, though he stood too closely for me to attempt running.

"From what court?" He grinned, apparently thinking I'd accepted whatever it was he was offering. I supposed part of the reason I'd fallen for his trick was that he'd acted so human, and I'd been so damned flattered by his request to be my apprentice. God, I was an idiot.

"Summer! I'm a Dewdrop Fairy!"

"No you're not. The tallest Dewdrop Fairy I've ever met couldn't have been more than twenty inches. You're lying. Tell me what type of Fae you are." He pouted, and pulled me to sit on the bed.

"I am a Dewdrop Fairy! I'd never lie to you, Harry! One of the Big Fae saw me, and asked me if I had a wish! I said I did, that I wanted to protect you, because you'd protected me once. Then she made me big like her, and told me how I could get your attention, and even helped me shape this place!" I had to keep it talking, I thought, because it didn't really seem volatile, but that sure as hell didn't mean it wouldn't attempt to injure me.

"When did I protect you?"

"It was a long time ago, for you, but it feels like yesterday to me! You were so tiny, but you still told the Bad Man you wouldn't hurt me, even when he hurt you! He put those icky things on you, those things you hate, and you cried and cried! I cried too, with you, and I promised myself I wouldn't forget you, and that I'd protect you. I've forgotten a lot of other things, but I remember that day! I always will!" The brown hair on his head lengthened, got a little fluffier, and became a bright orange. A set of monarch butterfly wings sprouted from his back, and orange dust gently fell from them, and glittered on the floor. Stars and stones, this was the Fae I'd refused to do Psychomancy on, when I'd lived with DuMorne!

"Johen?" I asked, pretty sure that was his name. He clapped his hands and jumped up and down with a bright, crooked smile on his face.

"You remember me too! I'm so happy! So, you'll let me protect you, right? Please?"

"I remember you. Of course I do. You were nice to me, when I needed it, but I don't need protection. If you let me go now, though, then you can be my friend. I always need more friends." Johen glared and pouted, his arms crossed like a petulant child's.

"You always need protection! That's what the Big Fae who helped me said! And besides, we can be friends right here! And here, that _nasty _man won't touch you again! And that big, scary man we saw before won't make you pay him!" I sighed, and supposed that this would be like dealing with a child. A child who was probably at least a hundred years older than me.

"Who was the Big Fae?"

"The Mighty Leansidhe!" he said with a grin, and I sighed. Of fucking course it was my Godmother. Who else could it have been? Someone easy to deal with? Never!

"She likes to tell the not-truths, Johen. The big man probably won't even accept the money if I offer it, and the nasty man died a long time ago," I said, assuming that he meant DuMorne when he said nasty man.

"No he didn't! I saw him with you, and he's just as alive as you! And he's big, and scary, and mean, and you said you were working for him! I know he made you say that, though, because he wanted you to sport with him! And he made you do that, too! I smelled him all over you when you came to your office, and I know that bandage is for some bad thing he did to you! I've been told before that one can sport with whoever they want, but that's not true! Mortals always use some c-word for saying when sport is okay and not okay, and I like mortals, so I listen to them!"

"Are you… are you talking about John, Johen?" He nodded seriously.

"Yes! The nasty mob man! He'll be the first one I protect you from!" His shock of orange hair fluttered through the air, and dust fell everywhere.

"He didn't force me to sport with him, I promise. He won't hurt me," I said, a little surprised by how sure of that I sounded. I had to admit, though, it was a nice thought. John Marcone wouldn't hurt me. "How old are you, Johen?" He glared at me again, and had me sit on the bed, where he sat beside me.

"I'm seventy three, but don't change the subject! You telling me the nasty man won't hurt you doesn't mean he won't! He's a bad man, and he needs to never be near you again! I'm going to leave you in here a while, okay? But don't try to run away, because the Big Fae told me how to keep you in here! I'm going to come back soon, though, so don't worry! I just want to let you think for a little while. I'm sure you'll realize I'm telling the truth by the time I'm back!" he said, and he stood and hugged me tightly. I stayed limp, and he pursed his lips. "Don't be that way! I don't want to make you angry!"

"Then let me go."

"I can't! I need to look after you, and you'll see that soon!" He ran out of the room, and I sighed. Damn, damn, damn. I felt a ward go up outside the door, one I had no chance in hell of breaking through, and collapsed back onto the bed. It was too short to hold me, and a spring was apparently very intent on making itself a part of my anatomy. I thought hard of my bond with Bob, then sending him my distress, and an orange mist appeared beside me in seconds.

"Boss? What the hell happened?"

"Johnny's not Johnny," I began, rubbing my head, "He's Johen, that Dewdrop Fairy from when I was with DuMorne. He says he wants to protect me, that he's going to keep me here forever. The room's warded up and I can't get through. Apparently Lea made him human-sized, told him how to get at me, told him how to hide what he was, and taught him the ward, I don't know what the hell she's up to, but I know I'm not going to find out in here. Do you know of any way for me to break that ward?" I asked, and the mist shifted back and forth.

"No, sorry boss. Even I couldn't get through that without a week or two of prep work, and I don't think you want to wait that long. It'd be better for me to go back out and find someone to help. Marcone's already in your office, so he and I can probably round up a team to get you." I nodded and pressed my hands over my eyes. Hell's Bells, could I ever have an easy year?

"Sounds good, but check what part of the Nevernever this is first. Don't lead a team in here unprepared. And why the hell is John in my office?"

"Sure thing, Harry. I'll be back as soon as I can. Try to be safe, alright? Johen was pretty young, then, and he'll still be young now, but at that size… I don't know what he'll be able to do. Hell, I didn't even know it was possible for a higher Fae to make them grow. Also, apparently he had guys on you, and when they followed you here, and saw the house you went into disappear… they got him down to your office pretty quick. I could hear him yelling from outside, actually."

"Glad I can always find you something new to learn, Bob. And tell him to stop having people follow me. I can take care of myself." A soft laugh filled the room.

"Obviously," Bob said, and I knew he'd be rolling his eyes if he were in a human form or in his skull. "See you soon, Harry."

"Bye bye, Bob." The mist dissipated, and I groaned. One day, I was going to go to Hawaii, and live out my days in relaxation. Of course, I'd probably end up finding out that I pissed off a Tiki monster at some point and get eaten in my sleep, but still. At least I'd be warm.

* * *

Marcone's POV

I never thought I'd be happy to see that damned spirit of Harry's, but when he returned to his skull after Harry called for him and told me that Harry was safe, I was thrilled. That emotion fled quickly, however, when he told me what had happened. I'd known something was off with that damnable boy! I growled.

"Calm down, Tiger, I just said he was alright. Johen doesn't want to hurt him; he just wants to protect him. Like you, yeah? He's just a little misguided, also like you. Hey you two will probably have loads to talk about! You can compare who has the best Harry-catching methods! Although, he can probably at least blame Lea a little for his misguided attempts. I'm pretty sure you're just fucked up." I snarled and began to pace around the room, planning the best method of attack despite not even knowing where my Harry was. I supposed I needed to put a tracker in his duster, when I got him back. I wondered if Gard could charm something that small to keep it working around him.

"I am nothing like that thing, Bob, so do not compare me to it. This is not the time for joking. Tell me where he is being kept." Bob sighed at me.

"He's in a real nasty part of the Nevernever, deep in the Winter Court's territory, which is weird, since the Dewdrops are tied to Summer. Lea's probably more involved than Harry thinks, knowing her, and that territory might connect to hers in some way, I'm not sure. I've never explored the area before. We need to get a team together to go get him, and we need to do it pretty quickly. Chances are, if Lea's got some sort of stake in this, which I know she does, she won't want to wait too long to make her move, and even if he wants to, Johen won't be able to do anything about it. He's unwittingly made Harry a sitting duck."

"Shit," I cursed, low and under my breath, out of habit. It wasn't often that I found myself in a situation where I could show discomfort publically. "I thought you said he was safe," I said, whipping out my phone to dial Gard. If he'd had shoulders, I'm certain he would've shrugged.

"He is, for now. Tell me who you're calling."

"Gard," I said, and he sighed.

"That's fine, but if you're going to put any of your guys on this team, be sure they're in the know about magic. It won't do any good to have people freaking out when we go into the Nevernever. I'm not even going to try to convince you not to come at all, though. Now, I need to find Murphy and Michael, and maybe someone else. Since Mister isn't here, I'm going to take a route through the Nevernever to get to them. You have your guys come here, and we'll all head to that house your guy saw disappear when we're together. I can get us all to Harry from there," Bob said, stiffly instead of playfully, and I nodded.

"Fine, but tell me who this other person is first." Bob sighed.

"We don't have time for this shit!" And then they eye lights were gone. I was wishing I could punch him again when Gard picked up the phone.

"Have you discovered what the issue was with Harry?" she asked tersely.

"Yes. It seems he has been taken into the Nevernever by a fairy he refused to kill as a child. There is a good chance that fairy is now involved with his Godmother, who, from what I've heard, has some sort of grudge against him. Assemble a team, with yourself and Nathan as the leaders, and report to my tesora's office. Be sure all those you choose know of magic and of Harry's importance. We do not need anyone on this trip that will slow us down."

"Yes sir, Mr. Marcone," she said, and the phone was hung up. I moved to Harry's chair and collapsed into it. I truly wished I could stop him from causing so much trouble, from worrying me so much, but I knew he wouldn't be himself anymore if he didn't. My head dropped onto the desk. He was a stupid man, reckless and passionate, always in trouble, a pain in my ass, and my biggest weakness, but damn if I didn't love him to a fault. I almost wished I didn't, sometimes, but hell, he did add a touch of adventure to my life. I managed a laugh, and saw the sun beginning to set outside. My team arrived about fifteen minutes later, but Bob didn't return with his until at least nine o'clock, and those he brought just seemed ill-prepared, unnecessary, beside my people.

Michael stood tall and proud, his cloak over his shoulders and doing little to hide the plaid shirt and jeans he had on underneath it, and his sword strapped to his hips. Murphy stood beside him, decked out in Kevlar and with a police issue gun in a holster at her side. Her face was sharp and grim, at odds with the childish cuteness of her face. Beside her, however, stood a face I truly, truly wished wasn't there: one Jared Kincaid. He was slouched a little, and was also covered in Kevlar, though he had a hell of a lot more guns than Murphy. A particularly large one was strapped to his back, two more were on a shoulder rig, and still two more were at his hips. Ammo bulged in various places on his person, and I scoffed. He had no reason to be there, and I said as much. Gard actually glared at me.

"John, you do not know who that is. To have him here greatly increases the chances of Harry staying alive."

"He is a mercenary, and that is all I need to know. I've no need for mercenaries." Kincaid laughed a loud, barking laugh and stepped forward.

"I'm the best there is, man, and hey, Harry might not be my favorite guy in the world, but Ivy likes him, and he gave her her name. Besides, I think he'll be good for a hell of a lot more entertainment later on." I growled and stepped forward, stretching myself a little to seem closer to his height. Entertainment? I'd kill him before he got the chance to even think of any _entertainment _my dolcezzacould bring him.

"Get the hell out of here. We will be perfectly fine without your help. Go back to Ivy; Harry will be upset if she's harmed."

"Ivy's in a safe spot, and I'm staying. Like I said, it'd be a damn shame if he went out like this, so I'm staying. Hey, maybe he'll owe me a favor or something," he smirked, and I lashed out, though before I had a chance to land a hit, Gard held me fast. Michael was doing the same to Kincaid, who, after seeing my intention to attack, had decided to do the same to me.

"John, that is the Hellhound! He is of great renown for what he does, so do not attempt to provoke him! I think perhaps that even you would find it difficult to get rid of him, and so he is an enemy you do not need!" her voice was quiet, meant only for me to hear, but Murphy's was loud.

"Both of you hold off on your goddamned pissing match until we get Harry. You can mark your fucking territory later. And Marcone, I don't know how in hell you're involved in this, but I don't trust you or your guys, and if this is all some kind of ploy to hurt Harry, you'll be locked up before your lawyers hear their phone ring." I sighed and stiffly shrugged Gard off of me as I walked out.

"Rest assured that I mean Harry no harm, Ms. Murphy. Quite the opposite, in fact." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael pick up Bob, and the car I was in led the way to the house that had disappeared with Harry in it. When we all got out of the cars, Michael carried Bob forward, and with a few whispered words, there was a large hole in the very air. A touch of discomfort started to eat away at my stomach, especially when I felt the bone-chilling wind whip out of the gap, but I ignored it. My dearest one was in danger, my Harry needed me, and I'd damn sure save him, or die in the attempt. We all stepped through, and from there, it was simple to find the house Harry was being stashed in. Bob, who'd left his skull, led us inside, and up a flight of stairs. I heard the sound of countless safeties being taken off, and pulled my own gun from my jacket to do the same. Bob directed me to open a door, and I did so slowly. On the other side of it, I saw a fairy bound in the corner of the room, twisting and jerking, and on the bed, Harry lay limply. This, normally, would've been no issue, but his head was on a woman's lap.

Her skin was pale, and her body long and slender, encased in an emerald dress that shone prettily next to her long, crimson hair. Her creamy hand was petting Harry's hair, and I snarled as I leveled my gun at her. I felt Michael place a hand on my shoulder, but instead of calming me, as I'm sure it was meant to do, it wound me up tighter.

"Lea, what is it that you're doing?" Michael asked, his deep, baritone voice nearly echoing in the silent room. The fairy in the corner continued to writhe and managed to do little more than knock himself into the wall.

"I am merely setting things straight, Mr. Carpenter, as I must often do when it comes to my silly little godson. Please, Ms. Murphy, Mr. Carpenter, Mr. Marcone, Mr. Kincaid, Mr. Hendricks, and Ms. Gard, come inside. All of those other men may wait out there, as this matter does not concern them," she said, her fingers twirling around Harry's hair, and my trigger finger tensed slightly.

"Stop touching him immediately," I hissed, and she laughed.

"Quick to bring up the issue at hand, aren't you, Mr. Marcone? All business. I am sure you all know that it was I that gave little Johen his height and what magical skill he has, in order to draw my dear godson into this area of the Nevernever, correct?"

"Yes, woman, and I care little for the reason. Release him," I snarled angrily, nearly spitting with rage. She laughed again, and I wanted nothing more than to see her dead. I was quite sure that the others wanted the same, if their expressions were any indication. I did notice, however, that Kincaid's seemed a little faked, and my eyes narrowed at him.

"Not so hasty. I have done all of this for what is a very simple reason. Mr. Marcone, you've slept with him, correct? And you desire him as your lifelong companion?" I quirked an eyebrow, but kept my gun pointed squarely at her chest. All those except for the fairy in the corner, Bob, Nathan, and Sigrun turned to stare at me, most of them with anger in their face. I ignored them.

"Yes, but I see no reason for that to be brought up here."

"There is a very good reason for it, Mr. Marcone. I have known of your intentions for the longest time, and it is those intentions that caused me to set all of this in motion. I was hoping to stop you before you had him, but I suppose I underestimated your skills of seduction." I glared at her.

"What reason could you possibly have for not wanting me to be with him? I love him." She smiled, and there was a touch of sadness to it.

"Yes, I know, and I believe he loves you as well, but at times, love is unimportant. I chose Harry's intended long ago, before his father died, and you are not him." The room fell silent.

* * *

"The hell are you saying?" I growled, and even I could hear the accent that was suddenly laden in my voice. Damn, I hadn't sounded like this since I was just some punk kid on the street, and I could feel Nathan's gaze burrowing into my back, as though he was trying to tell me without words that I needed to calm down, that if I didn't reign myself in, we'd have a problem. I swallowed and took a deep breath. "You have no right to choose who he is with." There, yes, my voice was cleared again, back to how it normally was. She smiled serenely, continuing to pet Harry. The moment felt almost surreal, and I wondered if anything would even happen if I shot her.

"I'm afraid I do. I am his godmother, and as both of his parents are dead, I am, by all technicality, his guardian. Because of this, by the laws of the accords, I may choose his partner as I see fit. This practice is not often followed by mortals in America anymore, and I realize this, however, Harry is not fully of the mortal world, and therefore he is under the rules of the Nevernever in the same way that he is under the laws of the mortal realm. Added to this is the fact that he is in my debt, and therefore is mine to do with as I see fit. On the day his father died and control of him passed to me, I chose his intended, and that intended is in the room now."

"Yes," I said clearly, blankly, "It is me. Hand him over now, or I will kill you." All business, no nonsense. Easy to understand, an ultimatum. She sighed.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried, silly mortal. You are as weak, as fleeting, as smoke here. Your silliness is amusing at first, but it is growing tiring very quickly. Mr. Kincaid, renowned Hellhound, come here and retrieve your intended, if you still desire him despite the fact that he has already been taken." Kincaid smirked, and sauntered forward. I jumped at him, and the shock was palpable in the room. Kincaid knocked me away with ease, as if I were a fly, and I crashed into the wall. My head spun, but I still stood and tried to get at him again, before he could touch Harry, but I wasn't quick enough, and he was passed into the other man's arms, still limply asleep or unconscious.

"I thank thee, Lady Leansidhe. He is still a worthy mate, despite the damage done to him."

"Kincaid! What the hell are you saying?" Murphy yelled, and he smirked.

"I guess you all are pretty confused, yeah? The Leansidhe came to me a long time ago with a job, and Harry's what I got in return for completing it. I don't bed kids, though, so I was holding off on collecting. Thanks for the help in that, by the way," he said with a sharp grin, and Leansidhe nodded serenely.

"Of course, Kincaid, but please do not lull yourself into believing he will remain as yours. I have given him to you, as was my promise, but I never said I would allow you to keep him." Kincaid snarled.

"Bitch! A Fae can't take back a freely given gift!"

"I had no plans of taking him personally, silly hound, but if I were to tell Mr. Marcone there that all he'd need to do to win Harry back would be to challenge you to a duel, I would not be able to control what he did with that information."

"Ivy won't be happy. I've been telling her for weeks that Harry would be moving in with us. You can stop him from issuing that challenge," he hissed, and I saw Murphy's teeth clench visibly. Michael was still slack-faced with shock, Nathan still had his gun pointed at the Leansidhe, and Sigrun, bless her, had turned hers to point at Kincaid's skull.

"I suppose I could, but I do not wish to. And you should not have made promises to the little girl if there was a chance of them being left unfulfilled. Mr. Marcone, I will admit to my approval of you, and I will make a solemn vow to you now, that all I can do, I shall do. Love may be unimportant, at times, as I've already said, but Harry's happiness is and always has been foremost in my mind."

"Then you thought I'd make him happy at at least one point! What's changed?" Kincaid said, sounding strangely desperate, his fingers curling tightly into my Harry's sides. The lovely man whimpered and I glared.

"I thought that he could very easily learn to love you, but you are too late. His heart has been given to Mr. Marcone, and no matter my power over him, I cannot take it back. Mr. Marcone, issue a challenge for Harry's hand. Mr. Kincaid will be unable to refuse it, though he will want to." I straightened my back and stepped forward, my head high and my body tense.

"I wish to challenge you for the hand of Harry Dresden." I saw Kincaid's jaw clench, saw him shake his head, try to turn away, but it seemed some force held him where he was and forced his mouth open.

"Shall you challenge me by duel?" I glanced at the Leansidhe, who I was growing to like more and more, and she nodded faintly.

"Yes." He cursed.

"As the Mighty Hound of Hell, I accept your duel. Who do you choose as the Emissary?" I took another glance at the Leansidhe, and she smirked. Ebenezer McCoy, I read on her lips, and said the same. "Damn you, Leansidhe," he growled from low in his throat, lower even than I could reach. "Who do you choose as your second?" Sigrun Gard, Leansidhe mouthed.

"I choose my employee, Sigrun Gard."

"Then I choose my employer, The Archive. And as for weapons, I pick firearms." That sounded good, I thought. I'd been trained in the art of using guns as soon as I could pick one up. I opened my mouth, preparing to agree, but Leansidhe shook her head furtively at me. Second choice, she mouthed.

"Second choice," I said clearly, as though I understood my own words, and he glared, looking down at Harry's face pathetically. I felt no pity for him.

"Will, then. Tomorrow, late evening." Leansidhe shook her head again, and mouthed morning.

"In the morning, not evening." Kincaid snarled.

"The time is chosen by the challenged. You haven't got a say in it." The Leansidhe finally spoke up again.

"He does if a certain time would give you an unfair advantage, as evening certainly would, due to your heritage." The hand that wasn't supporting much of Harry's weight went to clench in his hair, and my gaze narrowed. I had the sudden image of the bastard without his balls.

"If you don't want to give me an advantage in any of this, you may as well wait until summer too, yeah? Don't act like I'm an idiot, you've told Marcone what to say this whole time. You're breaking the Accords."

"One who was there in their making may bend them as they wish, wouldn't you say? I've known your true master to twist them on occasion, but fine. Why don't the two of you compromise and say afternoon. Then you'll not be at your weakest, but you won't have impossible power." Kincaid nodded.

"Fine. Tomorrow, noon, on that old baseball diamond in the park. The weapon will be will. The emissary will be Ebenezer McCoy. My second will be the Archive. Your second will be the Valkyrie, Sigrun Gard. Where will the Prize be kept?" It was then that Michael broke his slack-jawed silence.

"How dare all of you! To talk of a human being in such a way is unacceptable in and of itself, but to speak of one of my friends in that manner is something I simply cannot abide by! Neither of you have a right to him, and Marcone, I will speak with you later about what you have done to him. Kincaid, I thought that you were a friend, and did trust you, but it appears that was misplaced. Give Harry to me immediately." The Leansidhe laughed, and I crossed my arms tensely. What I'd done to him? Harry himself had said it was willing! He hadn't said it in front of Michael, but just the suggestion of it… I glared, and Kincaid's hands tensed around my dolcezza's body.

"Stop your fussing, Mr. Carpenter. Mr. Marcone did nothing to your friend that he didn't want. Kincaid speaks of him as he should: as property, for that is near enough to what the wife of the Hellhound would be. You know little of accord matters, or of marriages for convenience, for allies. Speak not of what you do not know. I should think that would be something a Knight of the Cross would realize, although you are the sort of Knight that would have his sword taken, misused by an impure being such as my favorite boy. I allowed each of you to stay because you served a purpose in these matters, and Mr. Carpenter, your purpose was not to make a mess of things, it is to serve as Harry's keeper for the duration of the dueling process. Hound, give my child to Mr. Carpenter, and you and Mr. Marcone may give him your goodbyes. Neither of you will see him again until the duel, and then he will be brought along as a motivator for the both of you." Kincaid stiffly passed Harry's limp body to Michael. Hendricks lowered his gun and stepped forward, as I thought of some way to perhaps rush forwards and snatch Harry up, run him off somewhere. I was certain I could keep him hidden until he awoke, at which point he could remove us from the Nevernever and I could escort him to a safe house. I could keep him there for ages, I knew, keep him safe and far away from prying eyes and pulling claws that would have him separated from me.

"You say we're all in here for something. What about me?" She smiled an unnerving smile that reminded me of a shark

"You are here to stop your boss from attempting the painfully stupid idea he's about to execute, as it will inevitably wind up in his death as well as Harry's, and I am not done with my child yet." Hendricks cursed and looked over at me.

"You were going to try and run off with him, weren't you?" he sighed at me, and I looked away. Hendricks was one of the few who could actually make me feel like an ass, and he used that to his advantage very often. The Leansidhe crossed her legs.

"And Ms. Murphy, in case you were wondering, I've left you here to serve the same purpose as Mr. Hendricks, although to the Hellhound instead of Mr. Marcone." She snarled and grabbed the mercenary by the back of his shirt, looking far more intimidating than she had a right to.

"Touch him, you die. Same to you, Marcone. I don't know what any of this shit is, but it's all bull, and I don't like it." Kincaid actually managed to pout at her.

"And lastly, little Johen, my dearest dewdrop," she said, standing and undoing his bindings. "I've a special task for you! Find Donald Morgan for me, would you? He's a warden of the White Council, and I'd just love it if this was an official duel, orated by a Warden like in the olden days," she said with a smile, but Johen's small fists were clenched, and his golden eyes were sharp as knives.

"You've hurt Harry! You came in, and you put him to sleep, and now you willingly allow the nasty men to fight for him, the big man to take him away, and even go so far as to ask me to bring the killing man in on it! I will not listen to you any more, Cruel One!" Nasty men? Well, I'd known he'd disliked me even when he was pretending to be human, but that felt like a bit much. Not for Kincaid, of course, but I'd treated Harry quite well in the time he'd been with me. I did agree with him about Morgan, though. I suddenly saw Bob's mist shifting forwards.

"Lady Leansidhe, is all of this necessary? I don't know your game, and I don't claim to, but I know that however all of this ends, it'll be what you wanted all along. Why don't you just make it easy and gift him to whoever you want? Why are you going through all of these theatrics?"

"And thus comes the reason I wished for you to hear these proceedings, Spirit, but I must say that your mind could never understand mine. You are a creature of pure intellect, linear, little more than memory, and you do not plan. It is not your purpose. Although, I suppose I should say that, in truth, I do not want Mr. Marcone with my child, for he is but a weak, fleeting mortal. He will die, and Harry will live, and then Harry will cry. I do not like seeing his tears, and have done what I could over the years to prevent them, though Harry does not and never will see my actions as such. The Hellhound is the better choice, as he will live for Harry's life and more, and is truly capable of protecting him, from himself and his enemies. If I had my choice, I would have ended this at the gifting of Harry to the Hound, but this is not all about my wishes. If I were to have left this situation as it was, Harry would have been sad, and would have been so due to my direct actions. I could not stand for this, so I decided on this game in which neither outcome will please me, and neither will result in full happiness for Harry. In one scenario, he will first rejoice, and then cry, and in the other, it shall be the reverse. I'll let fate decide it, involve those to whom Harry is dear, and it shan't be questioned anymore."

"And you couldn't just let Harry choose because…?" the spirit asked, sounding as if his voice was weighed down with lead.

"Because Harry does not know what is best for himself. He chooses what makes him happy at the time, what brings him immediate gratification, and right now, I know that is Mr. Marcone, but in this game I've created, if the Hound wins, he'll have no choice but to go with him. Might the rest of you leave now? I'd like to chat with the spirit alone now. Johen, as you seem unwilling to do what I've asked, I'm afraid I must remind you that for my gift, you are in my service. Go find Mr. Morgan and inform him of the upcoming proceedings." I saw the orange haired Fae's terse nod and grim face before he flew out, and Hendricks dragged me away. I attempted to catch one last sight of Harry before Sigrun opened two portals, but I was unable to see more than one sneaker-clad foot. My heart ached. I'd only just gotten him, and now if seemed he'd be ripped away. A killing rage flooded me, filled me from toe to head, and I wanted Kincaid dead. I wanted the Leansidhe dead. I wanted Morgan dead. I wanted them dead more than I'd wanted the Vargassi family dead. I wondered, was it so much to ask to have my love with me, to not have to fight for him at every turn? I wondered if I really would have to lock him up somewhere, hide him away from the world. I could make him disappear with ease, I knew, fake his death so well even Michael, with all his divine influence, wouldn't be able to tell it. My heart throbbed again, because I knew I couldn't hurt my Harry like that, couldn't so harshly betray the burgeoning trust he had seemed to be offering me. And that only further showed how damned _weak _he made me.

* * *

Bob's POV

"What is it you want to tell me that we've got to talk in private?"

"I know that he will be better off if he falls under the Hound's control." I shifted restlessly around the room, longing for my skull, for a real shape I could inhabit. I didn't like being little more than air.

"And because you know this, you stacked the deck in Marcone's favor?" I asked with a yawn. It didn't have the same effect it did when I was in my skull or Mister or a body, and it just sounded like I was groaning or something.

"Did I? I did not notice." I laughed.

"Don't try to bullshit me, it doesn't work. You're one of the best of the Fae at skirting your way around the truth without actually lying, but like you said yourself, I'm a spirit of intellect. I can tell those things." She smiled, tight-lipped, and it detracted from her otherworldly beauty.

"Perhaps that is why I wished to discuss this with you. I cannot tell myself, sometimes, if I am nearing untruth. It's become such habit to trick and tease, as that is what has kept me alive all these long years. I've never cared much for love, you know, and when the mortals started to wed because of it, I was disgusted. Love! It's all foolishness, a stupid little thing that clouds judgment. It has clouded Mr. Marcone's very much, though the Hellhound is untouched by it. Lust, yes, he feels that deeply, it's something ingrained in him, but love? He feels it not for my child." I sighed, felt the mist that made up my natural form spreading every which way, and pulled it back towards the center of my being, made myself a little more solid, but I couldn't create any sort of body here. It'd be too dangerous, attract too much attention, and there were more than a few things in Winter that didn't care for me. I really had made Harry too much like me.

"Ever think that's why your heart is hoping for Marcone to win, no matter your knowledge? Kincaid would protect Harry, yeah, but it'd be out of obligation, and maybe for a want to get laid, and that kind of protection is weak. It'll shatter if you pressure it, and if anything were to give Kincaid an ultimatum, his life or Harry's, he'd give Harry's in a heartbeat. You know that. And you also know that if someone were to give that ultimatum to Marcone, he'd shoot himself in the head quicker than they could draw a gun. His protection would be born from love, and that's always stronger. Plus, you've said yourself that you can feel that Harry's falling for Marcone too, and, from what I can tell, falling hard." She sighed, world weary and ancient and suddenly looking all of her endless years.

"You speak of things you should not understand, spirit." I would've grinned, if I could've.

"Maybe so, but I'm not just a spirit anymore. I haven't been for a while. I'm Bob now too, and Bob gets treated like a human, so Bob acts like a human. Bob's studied emotion until he felt like he could feel it all himself, until he could explain happy and sad and love and hate in the human way, not the spirit way, the outside-looking-in way."

"Then Bob is a foolish creature, worthy of all the pain that pretending will bring."

"Bob knows that too, but Bob also knows that pain is also part of the human experience. Bob knows that his best friend Harry feels pain, and Bob wants to understand that concept so that he can empathize, so that he can help. Harry is the only one Bob cares about, and Bob wants his happiness too. Bob can see that the love between Harry and Marcone may end up causing one or both of them agony, but he also sees that that may be better for the both of them, because before that, they'll be able to be happy, and neither of them have been really happy for a long time. Bob wants that for Harry, and he knows Kincaid can't give it." Lea looked at me, those unnerving gold cat eyes feeling as though they were ripping me apart, throwing me all over the Nevernever, splitting me into places so far apart that I'd never be able to put myself back together.

"Perhaps Bob is right, but the Leansidhe cannot allow herself to feel that way. The Leansidhe must know that she gave some chance to the conclusion she knew was best in the long run, even if it was the one she did not fully desire. I believe you've told me all you can, spirit, and so I grant you leave of this place now. Go to Harry and help Mr. Carpenter look after him. I'm certain that he'll be waking up soon, now that he has left my presence." I shifted myself up and down.

"Of course, Lady Leansidhe, but keep what I've said in mind. Leansidhe wants Harry's immediate happiness just as much as Bob, even if she goes about it strangely and would hate to admit it to herself." I floated out of the room before she could speak, and tore a hole in the barrier, which I floated through with ease. I found Michael waiting just outside with my skull in his hand, and I fled quickly into it gratefully. "Thanks man," I said, and he nodded silently.

"Did the Leansidhe tell you anything important?"

"Nothing I didn't already suspect, and nothing that's important to you. Much as she doesn't want to, her heart is forcing her to side with Marcone. She did at least tell me that Harry would probably wake up soon, since he's not around her anymore. Stupid guy." Michael smiled and sat me on the sidewalk for a second, before he picked Harry up from where he'd laid him, and then plucked me up and sat me on his stomach.

"This all feels quite surreal, you know," Michael said as we began to walk. I sighed.

"It always does. But I think it'll all turn out okay, it never hasn't before, and I've got no reason to doubt that Harry will find his way out of any situation he doesn't like."

"But to think that his Godmother has been planning to give him away like that since his father's death… it's unsettling. All the characters he's gotten himself involved with… I worry for him constantly, worry that if ever death finds him…" I laughed.

"You fear for his soul? You've got no reason to. That big guy upstairs? I don't think he'll mind that Harry maybe did a few things in his life that fell in a moral gray area, not after all the good he's done. And yeah, a lot of that good has been to save his own skin, but it's still good. And if the man upstairs does mind Harry's actions all that much, he's not someone Harry would want to be saved by anyway. When Harry dies, it'll be doing the right thing. That's the one thing Bianca was ever right about," I sighed, remembering the story Harry had brought back about his 'gift' after that party.

"I suppose you are right, Bob. But to think, Marcone has slept with him. It's rather hard to believe that he would do such a thing anyway." I directed my gaze to Harry's feet, saw them sway with every step. I remembered how small he was when I met him, how he hadn't even reached four and a half feet. His growth spurt had hit him hard and fast, but it had done nothing for his skinniness. In fact, he hardly looked heavier now than he had back then, and just looking at him, he couldn't have been more than a hundred and fifty pounds. I wondered if he'd eat a little more at Marcone's since he wouldn't have to cook it himself.

"Maybe to you, but I've been seeing it since they met. There's been tension on Marcone's side from the beginning, and a few months ago, it started showing up on Harry's side too. This is the kind of thing where you're just going to have to trust Harry's judgment, you know? Unless Kincaid wins, in which case feelings aren't going to matter anyway." Michael hummed and he called a cab over, and while the cabbie looked at us curiously, he didn't do much more than mumble about cultist freaks before he drove off. I wanted to snicker, but hey, even I know that a laughing skull doesn't go over too well in vanilla mortal society. The cab stuttered a few times, but it made it to Michael's place with no serious incidents. It was a hell of a lot more frightening walking inside, where Charity was waiting.

"Michael Carpenter, what in the world did you run off and do? Honestly, you ran from the house without a word, decked out in your cloak and sword, and now you come home with that man unconscious with a skull on his stomach? Will you at least tell me you didn't nearly die today?" she asked, and though there was a glare directed at Harry, I noticed it wasn't at all sharp or violent, and she was quick to hurry forwards and take me off of his stomach so she could examine Harry. Michael smiled lovingly at her as she prodded at my boss.

"Do not worry, Charity. Neither Harry nor I am hurt in any way. He sleeps only because of his Godmother."

"I wasn't worried for him, Michael. I only know that if I were to allow that stubborn fool to die you'd be sad. Come on, set him on the couch. I'll go fetch a blanket for him. And please, if Molly comes in here, try and keep her away. She's got an unhealthy fascination with that silly man." I watched Michael grin.

"Harry is a friend of this family, Charity. Molly may check on him if she wishes to." Charity sighed, stomped off, and a blonde girl stepped in a few seconds later.

"Thanks, dad. So, is he really alright, or were you lying for mom?"

"He's fine, dear, and will remain so if I can do anything about it."

"You're going to have to keep an eye on him all night, though," I said, and the girl, Molly I assumed, jumped. She didn't look much like a Carpenter girl, I noted, with the choppy cut of her blonde hair and the silver piercings in her ear and lip. More like Harry than he'd ever want to admit, I thought, as I remembered the day he'd come home with earrings lining the length of his left ear, most notably a silver barbell through his ear's helix, and a single stud in his right. It hadn't been until the day he'd met Michael that he took all but the stud out, and about a year or two after that he'd removed the stud as well. It'd taken me forever to get used to seeing him without them, although I knew he still kept the things in some drawer, and I also knew that he put them in periodically to keep the holes open.

"What the hel-heck is that?" she squeaked, hardly managing to correct her cussing.

"That is Bob, a spirit that belongs to Harry. He helped me and a few others rescue Harry today." I snickered.

"A few? Marcone brought a whole damned army. Nice to meet you, by the way, Molly. You look a lot like Harry did, when he was younger." She quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Harry was a blonde? And a girl?" she asked, half-sarcastic.

"Nah, but he was all pierced up like that. And I can't tell gender, or even color, all that well. I mostly go by names and shades. Like, I can tell you have piercings because they glint. Other than that, I don't notice them. You look like any other human to me, same as Harry or your dad." Michael glared at me.

"Do not curse in my household, Bob, or I will be forced to place you outside." I snickered, and Molly did too, though she tried to hide it.

"It's kind of hard to believe that he had piercings. You ever see them dad?" she questioned, edging over to where I had been placed on the arm of the couch. Michael sighed as Charity brought in blankets and piled them over Harry, covering his feet, which hung off of the other arm of the couch, as best she could before she left the room again.

"I did, when I met him. He had more in one ear than you do, I believe. I suppose that may be why I didn't have quite as much of a problem with them as your mother did." She smirked.

"Really now? What kinds did he have?" she asked, leaning forward and brushing his hair out of the way to look at his ears. "I just see one hole here."

"Most of his were in his left ear. He just had one in his right," I said, and she carefully turned his head.

"Wow. Looks like he had an industrial piercing. I wanted one, but mom wouldn't let me. Said I had plenty already." I made my skull bounce in a nod.

"Yeah, I guess that's what it was called. It was his favorite, which was why it surprised me when he stopped wearing it out, until he told me about Michael. He still puts them in sometimes, to make sure the holes don't close up. It's sort of funny, I think he was going out to get his lip done that day, after he talked to that priest friend of his, but he met Michael on the way." Molly laughed.

"My dad, preventing piercings since the day he was born!" Michael glared at her, half-serious, half-playful.

"Hush, Molly."

"Fine, fine. Bob there mentioned Marcone. Are you guys associating with him again? For all you tell me about being careful with whom my friends are, that seems sort of hypocritical."

"It was a situation beyond my control. I, in fact, didn't even know Marcone was coming when I left the house." I knew it would probably get Michael pissed, but I had to comment.

"Well, Marcone was just screwing him last night, so it'd be kind of impolite if he didn't come along to save him." I swear I saw Michael's eye twitch, before Molly busted out laughing and left the room with a shake of her head.

"I do not think Harry would appreciate you yelling about his… social life in front of my daughter." I grinned.

"Well, I don't think Harry would mind all that much, but you do, obviously. Hey, hey, he's waking up!" From his place on the couch, Harry groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Where am I? I remember I saw Lea, but then it was all quiet," he grunted, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"You're at my house, Harry, and you're safe. Go ahead and rest, alright? There are things you need to know." Harry sighed, breathy, and his eyes closed again.

"Is John here?" Michael shook his head, even though he obviously knew Harry wouldn't see it.

"Marcone isn't allowed to see you until tomorrow. This will likely not sink in just yet, but Kincaid and Marcone will be dueling tomorrow for your hand." Harry shot up.

"What in all the hells did Lea do?" I snickered.

"Apparently she engaged you to Kincaid when your father died, but is now having to deal with her heart telling her to let you and Marcone stay together, so she set up the duel." Harry pressed his head into his hands and groaned again.

"Shit," he hissed, "Tough as Marcone is, it'll be damn near impossible for him to win. What are they dueling with?"

"Will," I said, and Harry sighed while Michael glared.

"Control your language, Harry."

"Sorry Michael," he grunted, "Lea helped him through the proceedings then? I know Will wasn't Kincaid's first choice."

"That's right. He tried firearms first, and Marcone nearly agreed to it." Harry nodded, and fell backwards again.

"So, I'm going to have to go play princess tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid so, Harry," Michael said as he patted Harry's shoulder.

"I'm going to retire one day, you know? And then this stuff won't happen to me anymore." Michael laughed.

"I believe you'll be getting in trouble until the day you die." Harry sighed.

"You're probably right. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it, though. And it definitely doesn't mean I can't dream. Hey, you think I can have a snack or something? I'm always starving whenever I leave the Nevernever." Michael laughed again and nodded.

"Will a sandwich be alright? Charity and I haven't had a chance to go to the store yet this week."

"Sounds good to me. You know what I like, so just put whatever on it." Michael nodded, left the room, and came back about five minutes later holding a sandwich with some sort of… something falling out of it. Harry shoved it down his throat, and I sighed. Human food would never fail to disgust me. Anyway, after Harry finished eating, we talked aimlessly for about an hour, Michael and Harry both obviously trying to distract themselves, until Harry fell asleep again and Michael went up to bed. I stared out from the skull all night; I'm sure looking pretty menacing in the dark, and made sure that neither Kincaid nor Marcone snuck in to take Harry in the night. It was actually pretty surprising that neither of them appeared at any point.

* * *

Harry's POV

I ended up waking up a lot earlier than I usually did, since I heard the Carpenter family clattering around in the kitchen. I couldn't help but smile at the mere thought of them, and sat up. Charity was at my side surprisingly quickly.

"Did we wake you up?" she asked me in a way that made me pretty sure that was exactly what she'd been aiming to do.

"Yeah, but it's no big deal." I glanced over to Bob and saw orange bright in the skull's eye sockets. "Have you been up all night, Bob?"

"Yeah," he said, and I sighed.

"Go to sleep." The orange filtered away, and I stood and cracked my back. Daniel, the eldest Carpenter boy, looked at me with amazement, while Molly, the eldest girl's, expression held no small amount of disgust. The younger kids, as I'd grown used to, pretty much just ignored me, and I walked into the kitchen and plopped down at the place they generally kept free for guests. The coffee maker on the counter then decided that that would be the perfect time to explode and splatter coffee everywhere (including, but not limited to, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the counter, and, oh god, the _breakfast_). I hated my magic sometimes. "Uh… I'll buy you guys a new one? And clean your kitchen? You're still going to feed me, right?" Charity glared. The younger kids stared. Daniel, who'd always seemed to like me, sent a pitying glance my way. Molly and Michael? They both laughed.

"Don't worry over it, Harry. I should've remembered to unplug the thing. Charity, has any of the food survived?"

"Most of it," she sighed out, removing it all from the stove and placing it on the table. I took what had gotten coffee on it out of guilt, but found that it didn't really taste all that bad, and hey, it's pretty convenient to get in your caffeine and your food all at once. After breakfast, I cleaned the kitchen as promised, although it took me over an hour to get what was on the ceiling off, and I ended up with several cuts because of the broken glass. Molly stood outside the door the entire time, Bob in her arms, and snickered at me. Bob made no less than eight Cinderella jokes. I thought of suicide no less than eight times.

By the time I finished up, Michael was standing with crossed arms at the kitchen door, a small little half-smile on his face, and I plucked Bob away from Molly and we left together. Just outside the baseball diamond, however, we were confronted by Lea, and I snarled at her.

"This shit is all your fucking fault!" I yelled, and for once Michael didn't correct my cursing. She smiled.

"Perhaps so, my child, but it is for your benefit that I do this. Come, you need to be dressed appropriately for this," she said, taking me by my wrist and leading my into a small, enclosed shack just beside the diamond, which I assumed had once been used as a team headquarters, and began to strip me down. I was glad I'd at least managed to pass Bob over to Michael before she got me too far away. I squawked indignantly and yelled as though I didn't think she'd sound-proofed the whole damned area. She put me in a white dress (a dress, goddamn it! I might not be the pillar of masculine pride, but it's a _dress_), and then, from seemingly nowhere, a long, dangling earring appeared in her hand, and she shoved it into my right ear. I hissed in pain, having not put any in in a while, but she didn't react, and instead got a barbell and chain from whatever place it was she'd gotten the dangling one, and put it in my left. Along with it, about three star shaped ones were put in, as was a simple diamond stud. The weight was comforting, reminiscent of my youth in Chicago, and I could almost forget the dress, until she tied me up. I yelled and growled the whole time, screaming threats I knew I couldn't put any weight behind, and continued to do so even as I was carried into the baseball diamond. John's smile when he saw me made some part of my heart twitch and jump, made me stop my yelling and return the smile with a cheesy, crooked one of my own. I did my best to ignore Kincaid, although the wolf whistles made it kind of hard. John did a suitable job glaring death at him, though, and for the first time it occurred to me that all those instances I'd taken as him being possessed before could be easily explained by jealously and affection. Maybe I _was _oblivious.

Lea carried me up into the stands with what I knew was embarrassing ease and placed me onto one of the hard, uncomfortable seats before sitting beside me. She looked out of place there, in a liquid gold dress, and maybe I did too. It isn't often that you catch sight of a cross-dressing wizard with a lot of earrings watching a duel. And then, of course, I caught sight of Morgan. And Ebenezer. So, pretty much everyone, besides Murphy, that I wouldn't want to see me like this was here. Perfect. About five minutes later, Morgan began to speak.

"Today two men have come to battle valiantly for the hand of a fair… maiden. Together they have chosen that their arena shall be will, and that their Emissary shall be one Ebenezer McCoy. Wizard McCoy, have you and implement to use in the battle of wills?"

"Yes," Ebenezer said in his low, slow drawl, sparing a glance up at me that suggested he'd have a lot to say once this was over. "I've chosen something non-deadly, as tradition dictates." From a bag at his side he plucked what appeared to be a plain rock, but I could feel the magic on it from the stands. "I've enchanted this to respond to wills. Whoever it touches first will win." Morgan, Kincaid, and John all nodded, as Michael came up to sit in the stands with me. I saw Ivy move to stand behind Kincaid, and Gard to stand behind John.

"Place it between the two of them, then," Morgan said, and Ebenezer did so, although it looked, from my position, as though it were the slightest bit closer to John. I tried not to smirk. "Duelists, seconds, at the count of three the challenge shall begin. Emissary, Seconds, keep your eyes open for cheating. One, two, three. Begin." It only took a couple of seconds for the stone to start inching over towards Kincaid, and I watched as John's eyes widened nervously, then narrowed in determination. It inched back towards John, but Kincaid only smirked, and the stone made a large jump towards him. I got a little worried, and even though it knew it wasn't strictly okay in the rules, I yelled out.

"Come on, John! What was all that shit you said about wanting to keep me? If your will can't compete with Kincaid's, it sure as hell can't overcome mine!" John's fists clenched, and even from the stands I saw sweat beading on his brow, saw his feet digging in firmly to the earth, as though he could draw power from it. The stone stopped in its travels, didn't move to one side or the other, and I knew then that John was matching Kincaid. All he had to do now was pull a little harder. "That's better, John, but it's not enough yet! I know you're not that weak! Show me what you can really do," I encouraged, and was about to say more when Lea's hand pressed over my mouth.

"You will silence yourself, child. Speaking during a duel is very distracting, especially when it is a duel of wills," she mumbled, petting my arm as though she were attempting to sooth a wild animal. It might not be my usual M.O., but I bit her. She did nothing to suggest she'd even felt it, even though I felt a few drops of blood leak into my mouth before the wounds closed themselves. It tasted sugar-sweet and made me feel sick, even as I saw the rock edging towards John again in slow, snail's pace creeps. Then I saw Ivy pouting at it and cursed from behind Lea's hand as she stepped up to Morgan, and had to Listen hard to hear what they were saying.

"This isn't fair. Mr. Dresden's yelling has given Mr. Marcone an advantage." I nearly praised God when I saw Morgan shake his head reluctantly.

"His yelling is not cheating, I'm afraid, merely rudeness. There is nothing in the rules against it, and besides, it seems his Godmother has corrected it." Ivy sighed, and I saw yet again that despite her endless knowledge, she was only a child, not ready for all that was placed upon her small shoulders. The rock skittered towards Marcone in a sudden burst, and then skipped back and forth on the ground as Kincaid fought him. I squirmed and arched in Lea's hold, felt the dress slip from my shoulders and fall half-way down my chest, since it was about a size too big for me. I realized I'd just thought that there probably was a dress out there in my size and shook my head hard. Lea sighed, and used her free hand to pull one of the straps up.

"Mr. Carpenter, please do fix that other side. I had to get this at very short notice, and so I merely gave him one belonging to one of Winter's servants, and she's quite a lot more busty than dear Harry," she said, and Michael pulled the other strap up, possibly to protect my decency, and possibly because some deep, subconscious part of him found my suffering funny. I really hoped it was the former, and hey, it was Michael, so that was kind of more likely. Now, if it had been Murphy beside me, it may have been another story. The stone skittered in a sudden, sharp burst towards John, and now it was Kincaid's brow that was beaded in sweat, Kincaid's muscle that tightened in exertion. Another burst towards John, but I could see him weakening. He was only a mortal, I knew, and Kincaid was… something. Something inhuman, even if I didn't know what, and a mortal wasn't meant to go head to head with anything immortal. I winced a little in sympathy, knowing that I would be having a tough time too and surprised that John was lasting as long as he was. The stone, only a few feet from John now, slid towards Kincaid. I felt my stomach drop into my feet.

I didn't want to go with Kincaid. That thought assaulted me with sudden surety. I didn't _want _to belong to either of them, I knew, but I realized that I'd rather belong to John than to Kincaid. Kincaid… he'd betrayed whatever trust I'd placed in him, destroyed whatever friendship I'd been starting to form with him, and John… I knew the answer to my earlier question of trust concerning him. I wouldn't have told him all I had, the things about Elaine and DuMorne and Morgan and the Council if I didn't trust him. I wouldn't have let him hold my head in his lap and stroke my hair if I didn't trust him. I wouldn't have allowed him to drag me into some kind of mob business if I didn't trust him. I wouldn't have… I wouldn't have let him sleep with me if I didn't trust him. I… as much as I didn't want to admit it, it felt like I was falling for him. I was falling for John Marcone, and… I didn't mind it. It felt sort of like a simple fact, like something I'd hear every day. The sky is blue, and I'm falling for John Marcone. Maybe had already fallen. The world didn't end. The ground didn't quake. No volcanoes were erupting. Air was tornado and hurricane free. It was simple, plain fact. I trusted John Marcone, and I was falling for him. I was surprising even myself by how well I was taking it, but maybe the dress was affecting my thoughts. I finally managed to break Lea's cover of my mouth as the stone went closer and closer to Kincaid at a faster pace as John's will waned with his strength.

"Damn it, John! I'm trusting you to keep me safe this time, so you'd better not let me down or I'll kill you _and _Kincaid myself! I love you, you damned scumbag!" I didn't question the stone's sudden flight, or the force with which it slammed into John's shoe. I even managed a soft snicker when I noticed that there was a _hole _in the shiny leather. Lea's hand moved to grab my wrist tightly, and I felt the bones grinding together harshly. I hissed, and Michael tried to pull me away, but Lea only held me tighter.

"The battle ends. John Marcone has won, unless either of the seconds saw some instance of cheating." Gard and Ivy were both silent, although Ivy appeared to be biting her tongue. My heart clenched for her, the little girl I'd grown to like, and I wondered why this all had her so upset. "Then it is official. The hand of the Wizard Harry Dresden is gifted to Johnny Marcone, the Gentleman of Chicago. Shall his Godmother, current owner of his hand, and his Guardian, come down and give him to the winner?" Lea stood stiffly and dragged me down from the stands to the diamond, Michael actually had to rush to keep up, and I felt my wrist start bleeding from Lea's nails as I continuously tripped over the hem of the dress.

Upon getting down there, I saw Kincaid's clenched fists and his downcast eyes. He stepped forward stiffly as Lea removed her iron grip from my wrist and placed my hand in John's.

"I've lost," he said, blank, emotionless, and Ivy took his fingers in her small hand.

"Mr. Dresden, I am upset. I was promised that you would come and be a 'mother' to me. I have never been 'mothered' before. I was… looking forward to it." I blinked, saw Kincaid's hand tighten around hers, and, oh god, Kincaid had grown to be like a father to her, hadn't he? No matter how much he hated to admit it. I saw John's eyes soften at her, warm up like butter in the sun, and he crouched down, although he kept my hand in his and forced me to crouch too, which, I learned, is really fucking hard to do in a dress. I suddenly knew why Murphy hated the damned things so much.

"It's alright, little one. Mr. Kincaid may have lost, and Harry may be mine now, but I will certainly let him come visit a cute little girl like you," he said with a pleasant smile, although I noticed the darkness, the possession in his voice when he called me his. I glared at him, and Ivy did too. I was proud of her.

"Do not speak to me as if I am a child. I am the Archive. My knowledge is limitless, and ever-expanding. I was merely looking forward to enjoying something that most children did, as I have discovered this to be an important aspect of development. I may not need it, necessarily, but that sort of thing is something you may know, but do not understand until you experience it. Should he simply be allowed visits, it would be the same as it is now, and, I believe, would only upset my bodyguard, Mr. Kincaid." She looked up at him, eyes wide and unnervingly innocent. I knew that if I looked at her with my Sight, there'd be no chance of seeing the perfect, pure white. She was jaded, world weary before she even hit puberty.

"I've _lost. _To a mortal," Kincaid said again, and John stood and smiled his sharp, tiger's smile.

"Indeed you have. I do not believe reiterating that fact will make it change. I have won, and therefore you have no right to Harry anymore. I will allow him to see that little girl, but if ever I find that you've even so much as looked at him, I'll kill you, no matter what power you may possess." John's eyes were blazing bright, and he turned gracefully with me as he walked away. I knew I looked nothing like him as I stumbled along in his grip, awkward and uncomfortable. He marched me out into the parking lot and pushed me into the back of a dark car, hard, but not hard enough I slammed my head against the glass, then got in beside me stiffly. I noticed that Hendricks sat in the front seat, and saw that Gard had gotten into another car beside this one. The passenger seat, however, was not empty, and was instead occupied by a familiar face: Sam. I grinned at him and greeted him, only to find myself pressed down into the soft leather of the seats.

* * *

"Why is he here, Mr. Hendricks?" John asked, his voice soft to hide the harshness. I shuddered at it, and wondered what was wrong. I reached out and touched him with my magic, but I pulled it back as if burned when I felt the hostility flowing off of him. It could've been a side effect of the adrenaline, I knew, could've been his new status as my 'keeper' making him feel a little high and mighty, but I wished I could blame possession for it again, despite knowing now that he had never been possessed by anything but excessive affection.

"He insisted on coming, John. He was worried. A lot of the guys are. Let Harry up now, John." Hendricks' voice was calming, even though it sounded like he'd had a truckload of gravel ground up and put in it.

"You are his superior. There should be no 'insistence'. You tell him to do something, and he does it, you tell him not to, and he doesn't. And I will let him up when I damn well feel like it. I won him, officially now. He said he loved me. He's mine." I heard the teasing of his accent reappearing again, growing deeper as the statement went on. I saw Sam's fingers clench from my angle, but I don't think John did.

"Now's not the time or the place for this, John. Get up and be rational for a minute. You were just involved in what I'm sure was a pretty intense magical thing. You're probably half-high off of it." John sprawled out over me, and tugged at the chain in my left ear as though it were the most interesting thing he'd ever encountered. The gentle pulling was surprisingly comforting, and I allowed my head to fall back even though it put it at an uncomfortable angle. Backseats were not made for guys of my stature.

"And if I don't feel like being rational?" By now the accent had grown so heavy that his voice was a low, slow drawl, and it felt like a caress, like silk. My muscles relaxed, and while I now heard Michael yelling for me outside the car, I could hardly bring myself to care.

"Then we've got a big problem, John, because you gave up the right to be irrational the day you took Chicago. Now get up, Harry's friend is outside the car." John growled, but released me and climbed off of my body gracefully. I opened the door on my side and found Michael standing outside, holding my duster and the other things I'd been wearing before Lea decided to strip me.

"I thought you might appreciate having these back," he said, a half smile on his face. "And Morgan seemed quite upset, as did Lea and Ebenezer, and the little fairy from before came by, Johen I think his name was. He seems worried. Ah, and a few things fell out of your pockets as I was carrying this. I did not know if they were dangerous, so I left them where they lay and had Kincaid and Ivy look after them." I sighed and nodded.

"What were they?" My voice was annoyingly muzzy.

"Well, there was a small, brown book, a penny that was completely green, a large part of a miniaturized tea set, and what appeared to be a very fuzzy piece of something that may have once been food." I blinked.

"Huh. I thought I took that tea set out ages ago. Maybe it's the one I lost a while back. Anyway, all of that sounds safe, and I probably need it back. Except the fuzzy whatever. That you can leave wherever it fell. I think it might be a piece of pizza Toot left in my coat once, and I really, really don't need rats following me around." Michael laughed and wandered back off, leaving my clothes in lap. Hendricks glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

"Do I even want to know what that stuff is?" I shrugged.

"To be honest, that's nowhere near the worst stuff I keep in this thing. It's full of thimbles, vials, mild explosives, handkerchiefs, bullets, a straight razor, most of a transmission, and a bunch of other possibly cursed stuff I've probably forgotten about. It's all useful though, so don't call me a packrat." Hendricks blinked.

"That didn't answer my question. Why in hell would you possibly need a green penny, a mini tea set, or whatever's in that book? Or any of that other crap you mentioned?" I felt John's hand wrap around mine for no particular reason, but didn't protest.

"The tea set's for a few Dewdrops I know. I eat with them sometimes, and they like to feel big, so I bring that along for them. I had a really nice antique set, but I thought I'd lost it. I'm pretty sure that's what fell out. And the green penny's in case I happen to need to melt some copper, and the book's got some simple potions I can make on the fly in it. Oh yeah! I got your ring, by the way," I said, reaching into the sleeve into a really small pocket I usually kept sensitive stuff in and plucking it out. "Try it on, see if it fits. I can adjust it a little if it doesn't." He nodded, pried off the gold ring on one of his fingers, and slid the silver one down. I didn't have to adjust it, and he admired it for a few seconds.

"Looks good. Hell of a lot less girly than yours." I rolled my eyes, and John glared, pulled me into his side.

"Shut up, Cujo, or I'll take the thing back." He snickered.

"Yeah, I'm real scared of you, Harry. Think you can tell my why you carry around a fucking transmission now?"

"_Most _of a transmission, and it's for just in case the Beetle dies and I can't get it to my mechanic, Mike. Something about transmissions, I break them a lot, and that's usually what's wrong when it breaks down. Mike taught me how to replace it myself, because he was, apparently, getting tired of doing it. And I keep a few parts of it in other parts of my coat, so it isn't _technically _a functioning piece of machinery, meaning I can't break it right away." Hendricks sighed as Michael came back with the stuff that had fallen. I grinned at him and gave him a half-hug, since John was now holding my left arm hostage. John growled, deep and harsh, at Michael, who merely stared at him levelly.

"Goodbye, Harry, and please do remember to call if you need me. I believe I've left Bob in the stands, by the way, so I'll go retrieve him and bring him over to Marcone's place later, alright?" I nodded.

"Yeah, bye man. I'll see you soon, and keep safe," I said. He nodded and slammed the door shut. I used my free hand to carefully place the objects into the pockets where they belonged, and found that, yes; it was the tea set I'd thought was lost. After everything was put back where it belonged, John shifted me carefully so I'd be curled into his side comfortably, and I rolled my eyes. He grunted at me, and sent a chastising glare my way, although it didn't have any heat behind it.

"Let's go, Nathan," he said, and the car started up. The drive home was a little tense, though, and it seemed like John needed his hands on me at all times, whether my arm, my hip, my head, my leg, and I kept catching Sam's worried eye through the rearview mirror. We were on the highway that would lead to the turn-off to John's place when I finally gave in to the silence and spoke up.

"You know, John, I don't think I'm going to run away. I'm not a wild animal you have to keep your hand on all the time." He glanced at me, a smirk on his face, and his hand stayed where it had finally settled, spread over my stomach. As cliché as this sounds, he had big hands.

"Maybe not, but you have been known to go more on instinct than anything else, and I'll assume being kept is a new thing for you. You'll have to get used to it."

"I'm not being kept, scumbag. I'm not yours, not anyone's. You can say I'm yours all you want, won't make it true. And I have been kept before, that's how I know I don't fucking like it." He laughed, the prick.

"You've never been kept by me. I'll treat you well, you know, do whatever you ask me, besides letting you go, of course." The fingers set up a soft massage on the flesh of my stomach, and the muscle there contracted, made my ribs stand out in even sharper contrast than they normally did.

"Shut up, John. I don't belong to you, no matter what that stupid fight said. I belong to me, and if you keep arguing about it, I'll duel you myself." He just gave out his knife-edge tiger smile, his eyes glinting but not cold.

"You wouldn't duel me." I tried to growl, but it didn't come out right, instead sounding more like a hiccup than anything. I glared at the floor of the car when John laughed, but I managed to catch the sight of a smirk on Hendricks' face. Sam still looked upset, and I felt the car pull into John's driveway. The fact that the heavy front gates were open already surprised me, and we drove right up to the front door. John insisted on helping me out of the car and keeping his hand around my waist despite my cursing protests that only got worse when his men started staring. I think I even saw the guy I'd pissed off at dinner that one night, and he was laughing at me. Anyway, John led me up to my room and dropped me down onto the bed, then pulled his jacket off and untucked his shirt. It was an oddly casual action, something I didn't really expect, and then he was on me again. Of fucking course.

"What are you doing, John?" I asked, half-exasperated. In place of an answer he kissed me, and while I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, I kissed him back. It's sort of a little known fact, but I like kissing. It's one of the most intimate things you can do, to me, and it feels nice. It's a give and take sort of thing, something where you have to work together for it to be good. Marcone licked at my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, allowing him to do what he wanted for a while. He drew my tongue into a game that he had won before it even started, and explored my mouth without a second thought before he allowed me to do the same to his and pulled away.

"Nathan was right, you know," he whispered into my ear, "I feel high off of winning. I've been after you for years, I've wanted you for years, and now you're officially mine, even in the eyes of the magical community. It feels _good_," he hissed, and I shuddered.

"Not yours," I managed to force out, but he only laughed and pulled the dress down my shoulders, my hips, my legs, and tossed it to the floor behind us, followed by my boxers. I wondered why he seemed so insistent on stripping me first, when, I remembered, I hadn't ever even seen him naked before.

"Yes you are," he said, landing a swat on my hip before he moved his hands to work his tie free. And then he snatched my wrists and used the thing to tie them up. I glared and tried to pull them free, but John is, apparently, really good at tying knots. The knowledge didn't really surprise me, and I decided not to look too deeply into that. I supposed that with him in a mood like this it'd be a hell of a lot easier to just lie back and take it, but that wasn't really my style, and never had been.

"Kinky," I said, one eyebrow quirked, "But you didn't answer my question. Is there any particular reason you're doing this, or should I just expect random sex from now on?" He grunted.

"Haven't you ever heard that there are times when it's best to simply stop talking? I just want to have you now, after what has happened today." I smiled, and it was all teeth.

"Trying to stake your claim? Alright, I'll let you, this time. Go on, do what you want," I said, wiggled my fingers as much as I could in a 'give it your best shot' gesture. His eyes narrowed, and his nails raked down my chest. I arched up into it with a gasp.

"Do _not _mock me Harry. I am not in the mood for it. This is not a joke. I am going to take you, and I will do so roughly. And you will not lie there and act as though it is all fun and games. I am upset. I almost lost you." I sighed, and gave him the sweetest smile I could muster.

"You wouldn't have lost me anyway, John," I said, moving my bound arms to stroke his hair, even though the movement was awkward, uncomfortable, and probably only resulted in me pulling his hair out by the roots. "I told you I'd duel you, didn't I? I'd have done the same thing to Kincaid. It's a loophole that got put in a long time ago, when the practice of dueling for women was more common. If the woman was unhappy with the duel's conclusion, she could duel the winner for her own life." I didn't tell Marcone that there was a decent chance Kincaid would've beaten me in a duel if I challenged him to one, because he would've known better than to choose will against me, as a first choice or a second. I'd have probably ended up in a fist fight or something like that with him, and there would've been no chance in hell of me winning that. I think he might've assumed something like that, though, because he glared down at me sharply and pushed my bound hands down onto the bed.

"You wouldn't have encouraged me as much during that battle, said everything you did in such a public venue, if it were that simple. I know you better than that. Now, why don't you lie still and be quiet?" I continued to smile at him as sweetly as I could, but I felt my eye twitch.

"John, you know I could blow you across the room right now, don't you? I'm not worn out, but you sure as hell are." He nodded.

"Yes, I know you could, but what I also know is that you won't. Lie there and be good, hm? I'll return in a few moments," he said, and he walked out of the room. I glared, and wondered how best to spite him. I smirked.

"Flickum bicus," I mumbled quietly, and a small flame burned through the tie. I grinned, flexed my arms, marched directly into my connected bathroom, and locked the door. Because I'm a teenager like that. I heard John come back in about five minutes later, heard his curse, and laughed a little behind my hand. If he wanted to claim ownership and all that shit, he could deal with all the trouble attempting to own me would inevitably bring. I didn't think about how all the other things that had owned me hadn't been nearly as nice about it as John was attempting to be, how if I'd done something like this to any of them, I'd have been dead before I could stutter out an apology. But John was being nice about it, so I didn't have any reason to think about any of that.

I heard John stomp over to the door and rattle it, order me to come out, but I only laughed again. Then I heard something scratching in the lock and the door opened. Goddamn. Apparently John could pick locks, which I maybe should've assumed. Shut up. He dragged me out and tossed me onto the bed again before he straddled my hips and I saw what he'd left for: a long coil of rope and some something he put quickly in the floor before I could catch what it really was. I wondered why I hadn't bothered to get dressed again. It probably would've pissed him off even more, which was really what I was trying for at the moment.

"I was honestly expecting you to do something like that," he began, calmly winding the rope around my wrists. It was made of unicorn hair, I noted, and glared at him even though I assumed Gard was the one I should've been blaming. "I suppose I should just be grateful you didn't burn the rest of the house down with it. He used another bit of the rope to thread through the original binding and attach it to the headboard, and then used the other two pieces to tie both of my ankles to the footboard. I squirmed, pulling at the bindings, but they held fast and I knew they wouldn't burn. I sighed.

"Alright, John, you've got me right where you want me, don't you? What're you going to do, huh?" I kept taunting, kept prodding, wondered why I had such suicidal tendencies, and thought maybe Murphy was right and I would be better off in a padded, flame retardant room. He just gave me a serene, polite, all-business smile and worked the buttons of his shirt free with one hand. He didn't pull it from his shoulders, though, instead just letting it hang loosely, and then undid the button and fly of his pants too. I groaned a little at the sight.

"I'm not quite sure yet, I suppose, but I believe I could, in theory, do whatever I wished. Gard said it'd take you some time and some effort to get out of these ropes, was she right?" he said, sounding almost detached but not quite able to pull it off as he ran his fingers in a long, swooping motion over my chest, half-soothing the red lines I knew he'd put there earlier. I grinned.

"I don't really know, John. I've never been tied up with unicorn hair ropes before. Most people don't really want to risk it with me, so they jump right to the Thorn Manacles," I said, and tried a little spell that I knew worked on regular ropes. It loosened these, made them a little more comfortable, but didn't do much else. John laughed, half-wild and free, different from other laughs he'd given, and leaned down to kiss me. The edges of his shirt brushed against my skin enticingly, and I arched up into him as best I could, though it only resulted in an annoying ache in my hips and shoulders.

"Nice attempt, dolcezza," he grunted against my lips, "But in vain. As you said, I've got you where I want you, and I think I've decided what I want to do. You deserve a little punishment, don't you? After you destroyed my tie and denied my claim over you." I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, John. Like I said, do what you want." He glared.

"I'll change that attitude of yours quickly enough," he grunted out, and then pulled something else from behind the pile of rope: a thick, opaque piece of fabric. He was quick to tie it over my eyes, before I could say or do anything, and in my shock, I gasped. He took the opportunity to shove something in my mouth. "This'll go much better if you can't talk. I'll take it out when you decide to be a bit more amicable towards me," he said, stroking my hair, and I glared too, hoping the heat of it would reach him through the fabric. I felt him shift off of me, but the bed sank on one side, so I knew he was still there. His hand ran up and down my body a few times, spending extra time at my inner thighs, tickling there lightly, and I realized with a shock that I was hard, and had been since I'd gotten tied up. Hell's Bells. You learn something new about yourself every day.

* * *

Marcone's POV

Having my Harry like this, tied down to a bed, unable to move, to see, to speak, was intoxicating. I knew he could still use his rings, knew he'd have little trouble getting lose, if he cast that spell he'd used a few more times, but he was _letting _me do this. That in itself was more thrilling than anything, I supposed. I reached into the drawer of the bedside table, which had long been stocked with lotions and lubes ever since I got the notion of putting Harry in here. My hands closed around a sweet-smelling oil I often used for my own 'personal pleasure' and popped the cap. The scent filled the room right away, and my tesora, apparently sensitive to it, arched up in pleasure. His thin chest was heaving, I realized, and while I'd long noticed that he was as hard as me, he was getting harder, and I saw him twitch. I, just to tease, ran my fingers up it, and a choked moan fell through the gag. It was hard to believe how he'd been arguing not minutes before, but I guessed it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth and lathered the oil on my hands.

I pressed them into his flesh, starting at his shoulders, and felt the thin, barely there, wire-taut muscle loosen and relax as I worked my way down, down, down, over his chest, his stomach, his hips. By the end of it, he was limp and gasping. I thought this was supposed to be punishment, I managed to translate through his muffled gasping.

"It'll get there," I said, undoing the bindings long enough to flip his limp body over, and then retied them. He didn't protest to any of it, and I made sure his head was turned in a way that he could still breathe before I pressed my hands into his shoulders. The area was stone-solid with tension I noted, and I had to press most of my weight into him before it loosened. I got a muffled moan in return, one that pulled a groan from my own throat. I got off on making him feel good, I knew, got off on him being happy and trusting and limp like this, almost as much as I got off on him begging for me, flushed and hard like he'd been the first time. I worked my way down to the small of his back, felt the tightness there hold against me for a second, then give way like all the other knots had. I worked down his thighs, his calves, even his ankles, and it wasn't long before he was totally boneless there on the bed, looking almost as though he were drunk off his ass and enjoying it. I wondered how long it had been since he'd been fully relaxed, and I undid the bindings and flipped him over again before I retied him. I wanted to be able to see his face, then, at least as much of it as I could.

I saw that he was even harder, then, and dripping, so I dropped feather light touches on it again, and soft whimpers broke through the gag. I smiled, and moved my hand, prompting a choked sob and another attempt at arching up towards me. Without his sight, I knew he was likely more sensitive, and his inability to speak much beyond grunted, muffled words was probably frustrating him. He survived on his sarcasm, I knew, his impenetrable shield, and I'd taken it. I didn't care much. I wanted him open to me in every sense of the words, even if I had to force it. I reached into the ropes and pulled out a cock ring, smirked as I slid it on him, and he obviously knew what it was from the way he immediately started whining. I laughed, and tweaked his nipple harshly for his complaining. He stilled and quieted, and I supposed he was getting the picture. I reached down between his spread legs and slid my finger into him, twisting it as roughly as I dared, since I didn't want to _really _hurt him. A gasp came through the gag, along with something that was probably my name, and I smiled a gentle smile I'd likely never reveal when he could see. I reached deeper into him and felt his prostate, which I pressed into harshly, unrelentingly, a constant, immovable pressure. He screamed and actually managed to make the gag fall out, which I quirked an eyebrow at but didn't question or move to correct, especially since he didn't seem exactly equipped to return to taunting me.

"Good, good, oh _stars, _John," he chanted, an endless litany, and I kept my finger pressed hard where it was until his chest was heaving with what seemed to be sobs.

"Enjoying yourself? Still want to mock me?" I asked, pushing a little coldness into my voice I didn't really feel.

"_God, _John, _good, _but you have to stop, you have to stop or let me come or _something, _please," he managed to force out, his head thrashing back and forth, face red, eyes still covered, saliva dripping from his shiny, red mouth. I couldn't help but lean down and kiss him again, and enjoyed how he still tried to kiss back, even if it was an uncoordinated, too-wet attempt. I let up a little on the pressure, but it only seemed to make him more desperate, make him want something else, something more, so I slid a second finger inside and made him wince and whimper. I lapped at his shoulder, just below where the bandage started, and nibbled there. "Don' bite me 'gain," he mumbled, and tried to thrust back onto my fingers, which I had started to scissor and move, though he was prevented by the ropes. I, feeling like taking his usual position and being contrary, sunk my teeth into the place. He screamed, and I saw wetness appearing through the blindfold, a few specks of tears creeping out from underneath it. I jerked my teeth free, tasting no blood this time, but I could clearly see the imprints of my teeth in the place, along with a heavy reddening. It'd certainly bruise, if not as spectacularly as the one I'd made on his neck.

"I don't want to stop, or let you come, not yet," I said, and god, I hadn't known my voice could sound like that, harsh and low and husky, more like sandpaper than the silk people usually ascribed it to. I shoved a third finger into him and spread them all as widely as I could. A hiccupping noise fell from his throat.

"John, please," he cried, and I smiled, felt my eyes grow lidded.

"Please won't always work on me," I said, pushed my fingers deeper, reapplied the pressure to his prostate. "I want to do this. I think you do too, actually, if the way you're screaming and crying says anything." He tried to thrash again, his hips squirming back and forth, as though he were unsure if he wanted to pull away or push against the intrusion. I decided for him and pressed in harder.

"Let me come, let me come," he cried, half hysterical, taking his lip into his mouth and biting it hard enough that it bled. I used my free hand to slap his side.

"Stop that. Don't make yourself bleed," I said, and kissed him, lapped up the blood as though I could heal the wounds myself. He only gave a pathetic sort of noise in response, one that went straight to my crotch, and I jerked my fingers free of him. That made him make that noise again, only louder, and I smirked, ran my thumb over his red, wet, shiny lips. I didn't think I'd ever really be able to gag him for long. I liked this look, the noises he made, too much. I bent down, looked over the side of the bed, and grabbed the object I'd placed there to keep it out of Harry's view. It was long and thin, curved a little at the end and carved out of something with the coolness, the look of stone but the weight of some type of foam. I'd had Sigrun make it for me, a few months before, and while she'd seemed curious, at that point I'd only recently hired her, and she still feared I'd fire her if ever she questioned me. Even still, it had been an interesting conversation, and one I wouldn't relish having again. I slid the thing into Harry slowly, carefully working it deeper, deeper, and I saw his muscles tense, his toes curl.

"John, John, what is that, please, oh god, Hell's _Bells_ what is that?" I laughed softly, a sound I didn't even think he heard.

"Inhorreo," I whispered, and it the device I'd slid into him started to shake wildly, thrust in and out of him. He screamed again, and his voice broke halfway through it. I slid my hand down his chest softly, tweaked his nipples, to calm him, and he settled down, though his breathing was ragged and his cock was twitching madly in the ring. I was quite sure he'd have come long before, perhaps twice by now, without it, but it'd only be better for him if he waited, I knew. "Good boy, good boy. Is it good?" I asked, keeping up my soft petting.

"Yes, yes, good," he said, half-wordless, and I smirked.

"I'm glad, cucciola mia," I said and for a while I just watched him, twisting and jerking wildly on the vibrator. My own dick twitched impatiently in my pants, and I pulled myself free, and jerked hard. I've never treated myself delicately; really, I've never felt there was much need to. Doing it roughly was faster, and gave the same result. Personal pleasure wasn't one of my top priorities on the best of days, and felt like a distant memory on the bad days. It honestly surprised me that I took so long on Harry, but the thought quickly fled. I loved him. He deserved whatever pleasure I could bring him. As I looked at what I could see of his face, wanton, wild in a way I'd never seen it, I felt the sudden desire for his mouth. "Harry, I'm going to untie you, and when I do, I want you to suck me, alright? Do you understand?" I asked, and Harry nodded wildly, pulled at his arms and legs.

"Yeah, John, yeah, I will, I understand, I want to," he babbled, and I undid the knots quickly, with ease. He stayed flopped limply on the bed, and I quirked an eyebrow as I positioned him on his hands and knees in front of me. It wasn't easy, as the enchanted vibrator kept up its motions, and Harry seemed quite determined to remain boneless for the rest of eternity, but I got him there, and once I did, he took me into his mouth on his own.

It was hot and wet, a beautiful, tight feeling, as though he were worshiping me. It wasn't as neat as it had been the first time, instead made mostly of spit and thick, clumsy movements with his tongue, but the fact that he was doing it anyway, wanted to give me the pleasure I was giving him, more than made up for the lack of skill. Slick, slurping sounds came from him, and I, on a sudden whim, undid the blindfold. He had a look in his eyes I'd never seen before, dark, swirling, hot with lust, completely without control. His walls had caved in around him, shattered like glass under my hands, and that thought made me come. He swallowed it, and I pulled myself from his mouth and slid the ring off of him. He came hard in seconds, covering his chest and getting the slightest bit on the bed and the floor, and passed out with the vibrator still inside him, sprawled in front of me with his ass still in the air.

"Confuto," I said, and it stopped in its movements. I slid it out of him, and even in his sleep he gasped, thrust back towards it. I smiled, stroked his hair, and repositioned him carefully before I went into the bathroom and wet a rag to wipe him clean, then got what I could from the bed and the floor. I wrapped him in the blankets and then climbed in beside him, wrapping my arm around his waist. He snuggled in tighter beside me, and I fell softly into sleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

Harry's POV

I woke up to Hendricks yelling for John. That's not a pleasant experience. Have you ever heard the sound a cat makes when it's got a demon's tail in its mouth? No? Well I have, and it isn't exactly a melodic sound. Hendricks yelling when you've got an ass ache and the beginnings of a headache are like that sound with an accompaniment of a screaming, dying howler monkey. John seemed to think so too, if the snarling, 'What?" he released was any indication. I wasn't exactly clear on what all he'd done to me, since I'd kind of disconnected from all feelings beside more and good after the cock ring, but it had all apparently tired him out too.

"The phone, John. Amanda'sdoctors are calling. Something is going on, but they won't tell me what. You're listed as her contact, so they called." John shot up immediately, jumped from the bed, and snatched the phone from Hendricks' hand. I sat up too, to let him know I was awake, and to comfort him in case the call was bad news. After a few seconds of hurried, half-mumbled conversation that I couldn't really hear or understand, he started crying. Oh, hell. Hell, hell, hell. I stood immediately, paying no mind to Hendricks' presence or my nakedness, and wrapped my arms around him. He returned the hug, burrowed his face in my chest, soaked me with tears. I let him, rubbed his back, made soft hushing noises I vaguely remembered my father and Ebenezer making for me sometimes. I'd never imagined I'd see him so undone. He pulled up from me, wiped his eyes, and spoke huskily into the phone.

"Thank you," his voice said, and he hung it up. Hendricks looked at him pityingly, and I ran my fingers through his short hair. And then he spoke again, quietly into my chest. "She's awake. Harry, Harry, she's awake. And apparently asking for the both of us, although the doctor didn't know that. She said you promised to play with her." I laughed, and after the words sunk in, Hendricks did the same.

* * *

John's eyes, still wide and a little wet, were sparkling with happiness, with a pure smile, and he took me by the hand as he led me over to my suitcase and pulled out clothes for me. Even in his happiness, though, he did manage to put a lot of disgust into his expression when he saw the various states of disrepair my clothes were in, specifically the ones that had once been white but were now a funny sort of off-gray. I dressed quickly, as I'd become very aware of my nakedness after the shock and joy of the situation started to fade, and then we all left the room and walked down to the front door. Hendricks left first, and pulled the car around to the front of the house. He stepped out of it, and John climbed into the driver's seat instead, while I folded myself into the passenger seat. We were quick to drive off, and while the ride was silent, there was a heavy layer of happy tension in the air. As the sun peaked in the sky, we pulled into the facility we'd gone to before, and stepped out of the car.

The woman at the desk was the same one I'd seen before, and she smiled at us happily. It didn't seem nearly as plastic as it had the first time, though, not nearly as pitying as it had been.

"Mr. Malcolm! It's wonderful to see you again, and your friend as well! She's been asking for a man named John constantly, and a man named Harry, although I seem to recall that being your friend there's name." John smiled.

"My middle name is Jonathan, and I've gone by John for much of my life. I suppose she could be referring to me, as I've told her as much whilst she slept."

"And your friend has promised to play with her?" a small giggle slipped passed her lips, and John cracked a smile as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Yes, he did. I suppose he made quite the impression on her. Might I go up now?" She nodded.

"Of course, go on up. This darned buzzer, I don't know what's going on with it! It's fouled up both times you've come here recently!" I looked away to hide the blush that was once again blooming on my face, and John gave me a tight, half-hidden smirk. I glared at him as sharply as I dared as we walked up the stairs together, and into Amanda's room.

When we got inside, she was sitting sideways on the bed, her legs swinging a little, even though they were too long to do it comfortably. She had obviously been much younger when she ended up there, and now wasn't used to the new largeness of her body. I could imagine that maybe she felt a little like me, awkward and ungainly, literally not grown into her limbs. Her face still lit up with childish glee when she saw us.

"Johnny, Harry!" she giggled, and her face looked much prettier than it had when I saw her the first time, with natural, healthy pinkness in her cheeks and lively sparkle in her eye. Her hair, however, still hung around her face, a little lank, but I knew that with a good washing, some sun, and a solid diet it'd be light and fluffy. I looked at John and saw that his eyes were getting teary again, and he rushed forward and hugged her tightly.

"God, Amanda. I was so worried, I'm so happy you're okay," he whispered, his voice husky. She cocked her head and patted his back.

"Harry told me you would be this way, if I woke up. I didn't believe him at first, I got angry at him. But I know he was right, now! Thank you, Harry!" she smiled up at me, and I returned it, feeling like I always did when I helped someone, and she carefully pushed John off of her and came over to hug me tightly. The top of her head hit the bottom of my rib cage, and she looked up at me, apparently only just now realizing how tall I was. I smirked, and she giggled. "I never thought I'd meet anyone taller than Johnny's friend Nathan!" John laughed too, and apparently it was Hug a Harry day, because I suddenly had his arm tight around my hips, his fingers massaging the bone there. The mood was so happy, though, that I had to wrap my own arm around his shoulder and put the other on Amanda's head. She grinned up at us. "Can I go home with you now, Johnny? And Harry too?" John smiled, and pulled us both down into a crouch in front of her.

"Not today, but soon. Within the next week, we'll have you there. You need some more time here first, to recover, and I need some time to get a few things in order, get a room set up for you and all that." She looked over at me.

"I can stay in Harry's room!" I blinked, and John did too.

"I'm afraid not, honey," John said, "Harry and I share a room." She pouted.

"No fair! I wanna sleep next to Harry!" I laughed, and John pouted. The sight of it was enough to make me laugh harder.

"I sleep next to Harry. He's my wife," he said, and I blinked.

"So… he can be my mommy, and you can be my daddy?" Now I was getting offended.

"How come I'm automatically the mom? And the wife?" I asked, and no, I didn't pout. John pouted; I made a manly, angry expression.

"Because you're obviously the pretty one. Even Amanda can tell," he said with a grin that made him look ten years younger. She nodded.

"Uh huh! Harry is cuter than you, John!"

"You're bribing her. You have to be. Come on, Amanda, did he promise you ice cream? Candy? I can get you an endless bag of whatever you want," I said, crossing my arms.

"Stop that, Harry," John said, slapping my arm, and the domesticity of all this made me happy. I'd never felt something like that, never really had a family that I could remember much of. Oh, my life had been good with Ebenezer, of course, but I'd never been able to grow used to seeing him as a father or anything similar. Justin… he was out for obvious reasons, and the few memories I had of my father could hardly make up for everything I missed. This, though… I was pretty sure something like this could be family. I started crying before I could even realize it, and both of them were looking at me worriedly. I smiled, though, a watery sort of smile with shaky lips and a flushed face, but it was a smile, it was a reassurance that I wasn't sad, I was happy, and I shakily pulled my hand from John's shoulder and jerked a handkerchief from my duster. Maybe he thought I wanted to wipe my eyes, because he stepped away a little, pulled Amanda away a little, but that wasn't what I was going for. I stumbled towards the window, and opened it up so the sun streamed in in a bright, strong stream.

I held out the handkerchief and mumbled a spell in quiet words. The sunlight, beautiful and gold, started to solidify into long strings that danced in the air, sparkling like fairy dust. They braided around each other, weaved themselves into tight knots, all while I mumbled the words and felt tears leaking down my cheeks and so much _happy _was pressing in my heart I thought it would burst. The countless knots coalesced, then, into a small, solid stone of daybreak gold, and I folded it carefully into the handkerchief. It'd been so, so long since I'd been able to fold sunshine. Longer than I'd like to admit. I smiled again, at John and Amanda, saw how they were watching me, and laughed a little.

"I haven't… it's been a long time since I've been this happy. Years. I'd thank you, if I didn't think you'd call me an idiot," I said, and John hugged me. Amanda did too. I hugged them back.

"What in the world were you doing?" John mumbled into my neck.

"Folding sunshine. It's something you can only do when you're really happy. I used the last of mine before the thing with the vampires started, and haven't been able to make it since. Thank you. Thank both of you. I just…" the tears started flowing again, and John wiped my face softly.

"Happy or no, I don't like seeing you cry. It doesn't become you nearly as much as a smile, dolcezza," he said, the sweetest smile I've ever seen pulling at his face. Even now, sweet and John didn't quite seem to fit, but the puzzle was changing more day by day, from scumbag to nice guy and maybe now to sweet. I found myself not as uncomfortable with it as I would've been maybe last week. I laughed a little again, but it turned into a hiccup, and I felt Amanda's head nuzzle my stomach.

"That's sweet, Johnny," I said, and hugged him one more time, tightly enough I could feel his heartbeat steadily in his chest, far slower than mine. It was always weird, how quickly my heart beat, and even though it was a Wizard thing. Whatever. Anyway, we all sat together for a while, with no more crying from me, but then we saw the sun setting outside, and we had to leave. Amanda didn't want us to, but we promised that by Friday she'd be living in John's place with us. John did at least take the Shroud back, and we dropped it off at Father Forthill's doorstep on our way back home. I couldn't stop thinking of John's house as my home anymore, I noted. Maybe I should consider moving any of the other things I wanted to keep up there, let my landlady sell my apartment. It'd be missed, vaguely, but I was quickly growing to like living with John. We pulled up to his place as the sun was about to totally set, and as we walked to the door, we saw something on the doorstep. I bent down to check what it was before John could stop me, and produced a sound that those less informed would call a giggle. Two flower circlets, one of roses and one of lilies, one for the lord, one for the lady. Obviously fairy-make, and I smiled as I touched them, and smiled even more when I saw the blue fairy dust spattered all over the lilies.

"What are those?" John questioned, a little nervous.

"Marriage crowns, from a Fae. My friend Toot-Toot, if I had to guess." He stared at them, his expression part curiosity and part disgust.

"Marriage crowns." I laughed.

"Yup, for me and you, if I had to guess." I pulled up the one made of lilies, the one traditionally for the lady, and tossed it to him, because I felt like being a dick after he said I was the wife. He was quiet for a second.

"So we're married?" I smacked his arm.

"No, John, we're not married. Toot-Toot just got a little ahead of himself, I think. I wonder where he is. Normally he likes to watch me when I get something he made for me." John glared at me lightly, and plopped the crown on his head. Toot suddenly fluttered up and snatched it off of him, then dropped it on me with his tongue stuck out. He then proceeded to take the roses and put them on John. Because Toot can be a little ass like that.

"Za-Lord, is that man not your Lord? Have I made a mistake? Were you the one who fought for him?" I scratched my head, and then used a pinky to pat Toot's hair.

"Nah, he's the one that fought for me, not the other way around. You had it right. I was hoping to piss him off, though," I mumbled, and John quirked up an eyebrow, crossed his arms.

"And why would wearing the lilies have bothered me?" I grinned, doing my damndest to look a little dopey, a little innocent.

"The lilies are usually for the woman, roses for the man." He gave a sugary smile that hid a bit of poison.

"And even the little fairy agrees that you should be in the lilies." I called him an asshole under my breath, and we walked inside, Toot on my shoulder. I was greeted immediately by the sight of Lea sitting, perfectly prim, her legs crossed, on a chair in the entrance room. The long, purple dress she wore screamed of royalty, of wealth. Her expression seemed to be caught between happiness and annoyance, but hey, I could probably at least hope she was feeling benevolent that day.

"Godmother?" I asked, and it certainly wasn't breathless, worried.

"Hello, child, I've come to set the final plans up, get the fittings done, find out who you want to come, and all that." I can admit I gaped like a fish.

"Huh?" She stared at me like I'd been hit upside the head with twenty five buses and was now attempting to recreate the basics of algebraic law.

"The marriage, boy, the one you agreed to when you didn't challenge Mr. Marcone there for your hand within twenty four hours. I've already got a lovely venue, but I'd like to have you fitted for your gown. Mr. Marcone must be fitted for his suit as well, and it's already so late, although the wedding is tomorrow. You two simply had to stay out all day, didn't you? You live your life to make things difficult for me, child," she said, scolding, and John laughed. I wanted to be upset, but the only other time I've heard him sound so genuinely pleased was when I agreed to try this whatever we had with him. It's hard to be upset with someone you care about when they're happy.

"Do I really have to get married just because of that?" I squeaked a little. She nodded.

"Certainly. Now come along, I had that nice red head Mr. Hendricks set up a room for us, little one."

"Hendricks?" John asked, as Lea grabbed me by the arm and dragged me around a corner, down a hallway, and into what looked a little like a powder room. Toot had jumped off my shoulder and flown back out the door as soon as her hand landed on me. I couldn't blame him. Lea scared me too. There was a small dais set up in the middle, and that's where I was placed and stripped. John glared harshly at Lea.

"Yes. I'm a hard woman to say no to, if you hadn't guessed." John hummed.

"Must he be nude for this?"

"What, do you not find his form pleasing any longer? I suppose I can pull some strings, put him with someone else." A deep snarl tore its way out of John's throat, angry and feral.

"If you try to take him from me again, I swear I'll kill you myself," he hissed, and Lea laughed.

"Your win is affecting you very much, for a mortal. Please, do calm yourself; I've no intention of doing damage to this union. It will make Harry happy, and that is my goal. If you'd look instead of jumping immediately to the 'mine' thoughts, you'd notice that all I've done by removing his clothing is reveal your claim marks." I crossed my arms, and noticed suddenly the dark bruises on my hips, the others on my wrists and ankles, the bites on my chest and neck and shoulder. That asshole John.

"He is mine, though. Of course that's what I think, when I see another removing his clothing." She sighed.

"I'll be removing yours, too, as soon as I'm pleased with his wedding dress." She waved a hand, and a simple, well-fitting sheath gown suddenly covered my form. I felt a sudden sickness over the fact that I could recognize the stupid thing as being well-fitting. And then she pulled out the scissors. "What would you like it to look like, Mr. Marcone. Or John, I suppose, you'll be my Godson by marriage soon." He blinked.

"Lace," he said, and I snarled. Lace! Lace, he said! I'd strangle him with that lace!

"You even think of it, I'll burn this stupid thing right now. Why can't I wear a suit?"

"Symbolism," Lea said, and she cut away the middle of the dress, revealing my stomach, and then waved a hand again. A layer of lace appeared over the dress, my neck and arms, and the bare patch of my stomach. John smiled.

"A train, too, if you wouldn't mind it. A long one. And if he could wear heels, that'd be lovely." I tried to jump from the dais, but found myself stuck. Lea smirked.

"Did you really think I wouldn't anticipate your displeasure, child? Silly thing. You'll be there until I'm through with you."

"I'm fucking six foot eight, John, why do you think I need heels?" I asked, and I wasn't pouting.

"Tradition. I'd like you to look like my bride on our wedding day," he said, smirking.

"Prick scumbag asshole dick," I mumbled, and Lea smacked my arm.

"You know I do not like you to sound like that." John suddenly laughed again.

"You know, I understand that the relationship between the two of you is not the best, but you care about each other, don't you?" I remembered how alone I'd felt, long ago, whenever Lea wasn't around. I remembered the first time I'd called her Lea instead of Leansidhe, how shocked she'd been, and how she'd laughed when I told her I liked to Name things, and that Leansidhe wasn't a name. She'd told me it was foolish, at the time, that a Name brought power beyond measure, that it shouldn't be given lightly, but I'd only smiled. I'd said she deserved power. Yeah, she could be a pain. She almost always was a pain. She scared the hell out of me on the best of days. But yeah, I cared about her. I had to. Through all she'd done, she was still my Godmother, and always would be. In all honesty, she was one of the closest things I had to family, beyond what I'd recently been discovering with John.

"I guess," I said, and Lea patted my arm and smiled sweetly before I was another five inches in the air with a long trail of fabric sweeping behind me. And then there was a veil in my face and I tried to bite her hand. I hate everything. Especially when that 'everything' wants to put me in a dress, as was happening uncomfortably often lately.

"Perfect," John said, and I couldn't be really upset at the smile on his face, but I could damn well act it.

"Hell's Bells, this is stupid. What symbolism could be so important that I can't wear a suit?" Lea waved a hand, and the dress and veil were gone, replaced by my own clothes, and I felt a sudden surge of hope, until I saw that the thrice damned thing was folded neatly in a chair. She helped me down, and pulled John up, waved a hand, had him stripped. I blushed. Even after all we'd done, he'd never been totally naked in front of me. He looked _good. _Healthy, and that boater's tan of his definitely went all the way down. And seeing his dick, I was kind of wondering how in hell that had managed to go into me.

"The symbolism of me always wanting a Goddaughter rather than a Godson, and seeing this as my last opportunity to make that dream come true." I blinked. Then glared. Then gave up, because honestly, what good was it going to do? And I was pretty sure there was a way for me to get revenge anyway.

"Well, if John gets to pick out how my dress looks, can I design his suit?" I relished in the worried look on John's face, and Lea laughed loudly, raucously.

"Of course, child," she said, and I grinned.

"Make it pink. Pink with black tiger stripes," I said, and suddenly that was on him. I laughed and clapped my hands joyfully. "Perfect! I couldn't ask for better!" I noticed that even Lea was having trouble concealing her smile at John's scandalized expression. As it grew from scandalized to pissed, though, she waved a hand and the suit turned fully black, well fitting, clinging to him in ways that would've made me drool if I were a lesser man more ruled by hormones. I wiped the side of my mouth just in case. Anyway, he did have a pink handkerchief striped in black in his pocket, though, so I guessed that was enough. He still sighed at it though, but I just told him to deal with it, because I was wearing a dress for him. He shut up after that, and Lea got him back into his own suit. She left shortly after, and we both went up to my room and stripped. We dropped into the bed, and I curled into him, pressed my head into his chest. It was comfortable, and I liked the sound of his breathing, of his heartbeat, steadily thumping in his chest. I was asleep faster than I would've liked, but as I was drifting off, I heard him mumble an 'I love you,' into my hair, coupled with a small peck to my forehead. "Love you too, Johnny," I mumbled back, right before I dropped into sleep.

* * *

It was Hendricks who woke us up, yet again, but this morning he was dressed nicely in a suit that actually fit him.

"Come on, you two, Harry's friends and his Godmother are outside. Some of his friends are kind of freaking out. I think it might be time for you two to get up and get dressed," he said, shaking both of our shoulders. I created some sort of noise that would remind the casual observer of a dying wooly mammoth. Or at least what someone would assume a dying wooly mammoth would sound like. I like sleeping, okay? And that bed is so comfy it should be illegal. Shut up. John sat up with ease, disentangling me from him with what I thought was surprising ease.

"Of course. It is our wedding day, I believe. You and Sigrun are of course invited, and anyone the two of you would like to bring, though I'd assume you're taking each other as dates?" Hendricks blushed. That was something I never thought I'd see, but in a weird way it was sort of cute. Especially when he started stumbling over words.

"Uh, no, course not boss! We, uh work together. And stuff. But I'll bring a few friends of mine, anyway. It'll be an interesting wedding, for sure," he said, and then he fled.

"You shouldn't be so mean to him," I said, sitting up, grabbing the hellish dress from wear it had been placed reverently on the dresser and sliding it on. I put my duster on over it and John rolled his eyes.

"He needs someone to give him a push in the right direction. Those two have been dancing around each other since I hired Sigrun." I smiled.

"Well, yeah, even I could tell that, but it's better to let those things run naturally, you know?" He hip checked me gently as we stood up and began to put on our individual marriage garb. "I mean, no one shoved us together, and even though it hasn't been long, I'm pretty happy." John laughed, a smirk on his face.

"Harry, people have been trying to trip you into a relationship with me for so long it's a bit ridiculous. I've loved you since the day I met you, you understand, and Hendricks, as well as some of my other men, knew. Whenever they got the chance they attempted to force you to interact with me." Huh. I think maybe I should admit to being oblivious now. I know, I know, it's a pretty big shock, that a guy like me is oblivious, but I think it might be true. Maybe. Anyway, John slipped off into the bathroom for a second, after his suit was on, then came back and handed me a bouquet of sunflowers and baby's breath. They were pretty, fresh and new, reminding me of springs spent on Ebenezer's farm, and they made me grin.

"Thanks, John. When did you get these?"

"Last night, after you went to sleep. I had Sigrun order them in, and they arrived a few hours ago. I realize that we are already together, now, and that this may be a bit silly, but Sigrun told me, a few days ago, that perhaps you were uninterested in me because I'd done nothing romantic for you. I remembered that you'd told me how you lived on a farm at one point, and thought you'd like these," he said. I snickered.

"I'm not a flowers and chocolates kind of guy, John, so Gard got it wrong, but thanks for the effort. They are nice," I said, and held them tight in my hand as we left the house. I saw my friends waiting outside, along with Ebenezer and Ivy. There was no sign of Kincaid, but Murphy stomped forward as soon as she caught sight of me. She then proceeded to kick me in the stomach, hard enough that I stumbled backwards into John's arm.

"You moron!" she yelled, and I winced. "And you, Marcone! What the hell have you done?" she asked, but I noticed she was still in a pretty blue dress, suitable for a marriage. I smiled crookedly, and coughed a little.

"Hey, Murphy. Nice to see you too. I'm doing fine, thanks. Hey, wanna be my Maid of Honor?" She glared at me.

"Shut up, Dresden. Why are you marrying him, huh? What the hell happened?" I sighed.

"Karrin, I care about him. I don't know why. I don't really want to, honestly, but I do. I still hate what he does, but I swear I won't be involved in it, okay? I love him, Karrin," I said, and she sighed, snarled a little, and swept her hair back from her pretty pixie face.

"I don't like him."

"And I haven't liked some of your boyfriends, either, but I've played nice with them. Can't you do the same thing for me?" John was surprisingly silent, staring at her, his eyes soft, posture unthreatening. Was he… was he trying to make nice with Murphy?

"Harry, this is really stupid, and if you get hurt, I'll tell you, 'I told you so,' so many times you'll go insane, but for now, fine. I'll put up with it, but don't start bringing him around the precinct, and know I'm not going to be able to give you as much, if any, official work from now on, even if this 'marriage' isn't going to be recognized in the public eye. And you, Marcone, if you _ever _do anything to him, if you even think of hurting him in some way, you won't have to worry about being arrested anymore, because you'll be dead." John smiled softly, and took her clenched fist into his hand.

"Ms. Murphy, I promise you that you won't have to worry about that. If ever I think I've hurt him, I'd rather be dead. I love him," he said, and, even if this sounds really cliché, my heart skipped a beat. I think Murphy's did too, if her expression meant anything. She jerked her hand from his.

"Don't touch me, asshole. I said I'd deal with this, not that I'd be your friend. Michael, don't you have anything to say about this?" she asked, and Michael smiled.

"Love is love, Karrin, who am I to get in its way? And besides, you've already given him the shovel talk, there isn't much else left to add," he said, shifting a softly giggling Bob in his arm.

"Oh, I think there is," Ebenezer began, "Johnny boy, I'm a wizard. You know that, right? Harry was my foster son, for a while, and I love him to. I want you to know, I can make that thing in your pants fall off. Very painfully. And a bunch of other nasty things. I'm good at what I do, and after I let Harry and that little police woman have at you, I'll take my turn." John sighed, but smiled.

"I'm glad he has so many people to care for him," he said, and the door behind us opened again, allowing Hendricks and Gard to step out, along with Sam and a few other men and women. I smiled at him, and he turned a little pink, looked away. I guessed it was the dress, and I wondered how Murphy was letting me get away with without endless taunting. We started walking down to the car, and just as John and I got in, I heard her voice one last time.

"Nice dress, by the way, Harry! You've got a great figure!" And then Bob.

"Yup! My little baby boy's all grown up! He's getting curves and everything!" And then Lea.

"Indeed, he has grown up well, hasn't he? He looks like his mother." And then Gard. Gard! She wasn't even related to me in any way, beyond being John's employee!

"Wasn't his father named Malcolm? That _is _one of Mr. Marcone's aliases." I sighed, and the car started moving. John petted my hair, and I leaned into the touch. I really like it when people play with my hair, okay? Sue me.

Anyway, the car was going fast, fast into a part of town notorious for sprouting up Ways into Nevernever. Oh, Stars and Stones. Had Lea really set up the wedding in the Nevernever? A Way opened right in front of us, and my question was answered as the driver went right through it. Of course. But she was right, at least, it was a beautiful area, bright with sunshine, but with a thin layer of frost that had never and would never met. We were deep in the heart of Winter, I realized, but there wasn't much point in being scared about it. Weddings were sacred to the Fae, they wouldn't think of interrupting one, even if it meant they'd get me. The sky was a bright, early morning blue, cloudless, warm but not cold. It was a part of the Nevernever people wouldn't think was dangerous, but I could feel power clinging to every part of it, and peeked behind us out the window to make sure the cars everyone else was in were there. John pulled me back into the seat, closer to him.

"Don't worry so much, tesora. I know this isn't exactly conventional, but this is supposed to be a happy day for us both." I elbowed him softly, but it probably still hurt, since my elbows are as sharp as some knives. We pulled up towards a pathway that had been covered by a white runner, and ended beneath a white awning decorated in silvers and blues. Soft chairs that had probably come from Lea's own home sat beside the pathway, and the cars stopped. We all got out, and Lea went to the awning with me, John, Murphy, Michael, Gard, and Hendricks. Everyone else took one of the seats, and I even saw Toot, a few other Dewdrops I knew, and Johen make their way over from some distant part of the Nevernever, while Bob flowed out from the skull in Michael's arms and took his human form before he sat. Lea asked for silence.

"We are here to bind in marriage my Godson, Wizard Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, and his Lord, Mortal… Stars," she sighed. "John Marcone is not your real Name. I cannot perform this binding without the Name you were given from birth." Oh. Then it wouldn't happen. I'd had suspicions that John Marcone wasn't his real name, been almost sure of it in fact, but no, he wouldn't give a thing like that.

"Melchiorre Lorenzi," he said, without pause, without hesitation, and my eyes went wide. He grabbed my hand and ran his thumb in soft circles over it. "Good. We are here to bind in marriage my Godson, Wizard Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, and his Lord, Mortal Melchiorre Lorenzi. Shall the Lord take his Wizard's right hand in his left?" John dropped the hand he held, my left, and took my right easily. I wrapped around it in return. Lea placed her own hand over both of them. "Shall Wizard Ebenezer 'Blackstaff' McCoy step forward to bestow his blessing, in the place of my Godson's father?"

"Yes," he said, and stood, walking up and placing his own hand on the pile with a few whispered words. I felt a shock of power, the sweet, forgiving sort, and John did too, if I'd correctly judged his intake of breath.

"And now a representative from the Lord, to swear that his protection for my Godson will be endless, his love pure. That he will be safe in the Lord's hands." Gard stepped forward, and placed her hand on Ebenezer's. A wave of power, ancient, washed over me, and I could feel the thrill of battle, the happiness of survival, the joy at simple things, like food and drink. John's fingers twitched a little around mine. "I ask for a friend of my Godson to step forward and give friendship to the Lord, to show that he is now a part of my Godson's family." Michael did so, his hand heavy and callused on the top of the pile. His stalwart determination washed over me, and I felt his light, his purity, his… acceptance. A smile appeared on John's face. "I now give my own acceptance of this union." A cold deep enough to burn settled in my fingertips, but it was sharp, crisp like rain. Beautiful in its own right, but still John shuddered. "I ask now if anyone would protest against this marriage, before it is sealed." After Murphy's earlier acceptance, I expected silence, but from the audience came a loud voice.

"I, um, I protest!" Sam yelled, and Lea paused. Her cat eyes narrowed a little, and she shifted, rustled the fabric of her dress.

"And what is the nature of your protest, little one?"

"I like Mr. Marcone and all, he's done good, a lot of good, but he isn't good for Harry! He'll end up hurting him, I know it! He'll… I've seen something, in his house. A room. It's got… he's obsessed with Harry! It's really unhealthy! I don't… I don't want Harry to get hurt!" He cried, and John's fingers tightened almost painfully around mine. I felt the magic that had been building around our joined hands dispersing at his protests, and did my best to keep it together with my own magic. Lea spared me a small glance.

"I feel the obsession you speak of, yes. It's strong in him, with the love. I believe you have raised a valid point, and ask that my Godson hear all relevant information relating to this obsession. If this information upsets him, I will see it as just cause to allow him to challenge his Lord to a duel for himself. Archive, is this an acceptable idea?" I looked at Ivy; saw her short legs swinging from the chair, her fingers playing with the hem of her cute, flowered dress.

"I suppose so," she said, but she didn't sound happy about it.

"Speak, little mortal one," Lea said, and, shaking, Sam did.

"There are a bunch of rooms in his basement, and he keeps information in them. I know of one that's about everyone relating to Harry. Mr. Marcone keeps histories and weaknesses and contingency plans for all of them. Then there's another room, one with a bunch of things Harry's owned. He's got… he's got some of his hair!" I stiffened, looked at John, who stared straight back at me, into my eyes. I saw that the words were true in them, and wanted to pull away. I could feel my trust wavering, and gritted my teeth.

"John?" I asked softly.

"He is telling the truth, but I gathered these things before you accepted me, Harry. I was certain at the time that I would never have you, and forced myself to be content with the fact that I could know of your activities, protect you where I could, have little bits and pieces of you, your life." I closed my eyes. I didn't know how I could let something like that just slide by, like it wasn't a big deal, but it was. It was a huge deal, he could kill me if he wanted, hurt me endlessly. All the trust I'd placed in him… I saw Murphy's murderous expression, Ebenezer's sharp glare. I felt speechless, felt like my throat was closed up. Hendricks was glaring harshly at Sam, and Gard looked as though she wasn't sure if she wanted to be pissed off too or laugh. My heart was breaking a little, again, another scar was getting cut over all the rest. Michael looked nervous, though I didn't know for who or what. I wanted to run, fly off somewhere and think, and forget, because I didn't know what to do, and my chest was aching, and I still loved the bastard, but hell, what could I do? How could I forget something like that, just let it go? That he had all these things, plans to kill my friends, the means to kill me… how was it something I could just take? John's guys seemed shifty, maybe upset, but I couldn't tell completely through the masks. John was just… he looked accepting. A little sad, maybe. But blank most of all. Empty, closed off. I still loved him. No relationship was perfect. We'd deal with it.

"You think you're going to get rid of me that easily? I've been compared to a leech, you know. You're going to have to do a lot more than that to get me to leave now, especially after you've shown me the wonders of a bed big enough for me," I croaked out, and the magic around our hands that had been drifting apart smashed back together, stronger than before. His eyes went wide with wonder, and then he smiled.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, yeah, I love you, fucking scumbag. But you're getting rid of everything you've got. Burning it, and I'm going to be there to watch and make sure it's all gone. Okay? If you say no, I will leave. I'll trust you, and you trust me, right?" His fingers squeezed.

"Of course, my tesora," he told me, and I smiled.

"Has your protest been resolved, young mortal?" Lea asked Sam softly, and he nodded, sat, though it was stiff, maybe a bit angry. "Then I now seal this union, this marriage, between my Godson, Wizard Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden and his Lord, Mortal Melchiorre Lorenzi. The two may end the ceremony with a kiss." The magic clamped our hands together beneath all the other hands, tight and warm and comfortable, and John leaned in and kissed me softly. I returned it, and there was cheering. Hell's Bells. I'd never imagined I'd get married, much less be the bride. The hands were all removed, except for John's which held tightly still to mine. I kissed him again, this time on the cheek.

"Melchiorre?" I whispered, and he turned a little pink.

"My mother liked it, but it's a bit… distinctive, so I changed it, upon beginning my… work in Chicago."

"I like it too, but I think I'll stick with John. That's who you've always been to me, and it's going to stay that way."

"Of course, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. I don't think you have much room to talk in the way of names, by the way." I flushed a little too.

"My dad was a magician, so of course I'm named after three of them." He giggled (can you believe it? John Marcone giggling!), and we went back to the car. Yeah, whatever it was we had wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. It was flawed, cracked in places, needed repair, but I liked it. Nothing in my life is perfect, because perfect is boring. I don't want perfect, I never have, I never will. But I'd take okay, and this was certainly okay. I dropped my head onto his shoulder heavily, and the car started up. I really did love him, when he wasn't being an asshole.

* * *

When we got back through a Way and into the natural world again, we went straight back to John's house and straight into the basement. We didn't even bother changing before I set all the shit he'd collected ablaze, and oh, was there a lot of it. By the end of it, I was covered in soot, the dress ruined, and why in all the seven hells was I upset by that? I tried not to linger over John's half-devastated expression as the things burned up, but he was just lucky I hadn't read or really looked at any of it, as far as I was concerned. I did let him keep the ring he'd 'found' though, and he slid it on his finger as soon as I resized it to fit him, after insisting that I wear one of his too. I took a simple gold one and supposed I could always charm it to do something later. The look on his face was worth it either way, even though I wore it on my thumb, since all my other fingers were full. We held hands while we watched the bonfire, and Sam came out as it was dwindling. I couldn't stop John before he punched the poor kid hard in the face. I counted myself lucky he didn't use the ring I'd just let him have.

"Little prick," he hissed, "You're lucky you're one of mine, or you'd get worse. Harry è mio. Per sempre e per sempre." I jerked him off of the poor kid.

"John, stop it! He was doing what he thought was best. I'm grateful to him for it, and you should be too! If you'd kept that from me, and I'd found out later, I would've left. It would have been a betrayal of my trust, and I don't give trust lightly. Get off of him," I said, keeping my voice as calm and steady as I could. Sam was bleeding, his lip split, jaw torn open and already bruising. John snarled, and I slapped him as best I could. He winced, and stood up.

"Go, Sam. Back in the house. I'm sorry. You may leave my organization if you wish. I overreacted." I smacked his head.

"Good John," I said, "And Sam, thank you. You're a good friend," I said, and smiled a wide smile. John took my hand and held it tightly, obviously straining against jealousy, and I appreciated it. Sam gave the best smile he could, and nodded.

"You're a good friend too, Harry! I'm going to go clean my face off. And Mr. Marcone? I'm not leaving. I'll keep working for you, if only so I can keep Harry safe." John hissed a little, and Sam ran off. We entered the house again too, a few minutes later, as the fire finally totally died.

It was chaos inside, as apparently my wedding party had arrived. Bob, who'd apparently just stepped right into the house through a Way, was in human form, and had taken it upon himself to raid John's liquor. There was already an empty vodka bottle on the ground, Murphy was downing a shot of whiskey, and Michael was continuing to refuse a drop while Bob attempted to pour it down his throat. Toot was passed out on the table next to a thimble, and I had a feeling some of the vodka had gone to him, while Johen sipped delicately at some sort of wine. Ivy was, thankfully, nowhere in sight.

"Harry!" Bob yelled, too loud for the small space, drunk and waving the bottle he held around. Michael sighed, and Murphy snickered, though it turned into a round of hiccups. My friends, everybody.

"Is Toot alright?" I asked, and Michael nodded.

"Yes. Bob poured him a thimble of that vodka there, and he passed out a few seconds after he drank it. It isn't much wonder why, as that stuff appears to be 160 proof." I nodded.

"Wonderful. He's going to be really cranky when he gets up. Johen, are you sure you want to drink that? Are you even old enough to drink that?" He blinked at me, owlish, and nodded.

"The bad man stole you, and so I will steal his ales." Fairy logic, it's flawless.

"Whatever, I said, and flopped onto the couch. John joined me a few seconds after the shock that literally all of his alcohol would be gone by morning. I snatched the whiskey bottle Bob was holding and took a swig.

"That's not… that's not very lady-like Harry," Murphy cackled, and I rolled my eyes.

"And you are?" She shook her head.

"Never claimed to be." And then she grabbed the bottle from me and took another drink. I had Michael call Billy and the Werewolves after that, and at the promise of free drinks and nice beds for the night they arrived quickly, and were even faster to get over their surprise that I was now married. They were a little upset that they hadn't been invited to the wedding, though. I promised a great after party to make up for it, and John looked a little woeful. He deserved it, and I took the new bottle Bob brought out, took a drink, and passed it around. By the end of the night, I was shitfaced, Bob, Murphy, Johen, and Billy and his friends had passed out, John was slurring heavily, and even Michael had taken a sip or two of something light out of pure determination on all our parts. It had been a good night. I was grinning through all of it, and it was even better when I was the one that had to support John on the way up to our room. I did feel a little bad leaving Michael to cart the rest of them to bed, though. I did take Toot with me too, though, and put a little circle around him, one he could step out of but nothing could enter, so Mister wouldn't get him while he slept. The cat himself gave me a disapproving look as I hauled John drunkenly into the bed and flopped down beside him in an equally drunken way. He did still curl up beside me to sleep that night, though. And hey, I'd found the hangover potions I'd made about a year before in Bob's pocket, and took two of them up there with me too, so all in all it was a good night. I was happy.

* * *

I woke up the next morning to a kiss, and let me say, that's a hell of a lot better wakeup call than Hendricks.

"Morning, John," I managed to get out, before the headache set in and I sent a questing hand over to the bedside table to snatch up the potion and gulp it down. The ache subsided in seconds, and I grinned happily, despite the lingering taste of stale coffee and donuts that coated my tongue, and handed the other to John. He looked at it worriedly. "It's for hangovers, just drink it. I don't think I'd pick now to poison you. It'll taste like shit, but it's worth it." John nodded, took the small bottle, and gulped it down. His expression was hilarious, and I laughed a little. He narrowed his eyes playfully and pinned me to the bed, apparently suddenly noticing I was still in the dress and he in the suit.

"You know, we didn't get to 'consummate' this marriage last night," he whispered softly into my ear, and I rolled my eyes.

"Horny bastard. You'd think you hadn't had sex in years." He blinked.

"I haven't. Before that first time with you, I hadn't had anyone since I was a teenager." That made me a lot happier than I'd ever be willing to admit to.

"Hey, that means your dry spell was longer than mine! And you're actually attractive! I really can't wait to rub that in Bob's face!" John sighed and kissed me delicately, like he was scared I'd break.

"You're beautiful, Harry, and even more so when you're covered in soot like this. I like your power," he said, and he carefully slid the lacy garment off of me. I smiled, and slid his suit jacket off of him, then his shirt, and finally his pants. He wasn't getting away with not stripping this time, and he seemed to realize what I was getting at, because he pulled his boxers off for me, then got mine, because no, I'll apparently wear a dress, but I will not wear fucking panties. Ever. Anyway, John touched me like a raindrop would bruise me, this time, and trailed his tongue behind his fingertips. I shivered, gasped and arched, not hard but getting there, really more enjoying the sensation than anything else. The barely there calluses on his fingers felt nice as they tickled over scars, and he spent particularly long stretches of time over the ones I knew looked bad, like the one between two oh my ribs that'd come from a dagger blade, or the bullet wound in my hip that's nearly shattered my pelvis. It was sweet, exploratory, and it felt like hours before he was through with that, before I was really fully hard. I tried to reach out and touch him in return, but he gently shoved my hand away and shook his head.

"John, please, I've never gotten to touch you back before. Why won't you let me?" He pecked my lips.

"Because I want to worship you. I want to be sure you feel good." I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah? Ever think I want the same for you? Come on, get on your back, let me do what you just did for me, okay? I want to know what feels good to you too." He sighed, smiled indulgently, and allowed himself to fall backwards, me on top of him.

"Do it, then, if you want to so badly," he said, his voice nearly a whisper, and I ran my fingers, feather-light, over his stomach. It twitched and quivered, ticklish, and I giggled, enjoying the choked laugh-moans that felt from his lips as my fingers ran up and down his side. I finally stopped and leaned down, pressed a kiss on his chest, where I saw a scar that looked like it was from wires wrapped too-tight too-long around him. He had bullet wounds, too, here and there, some grazes, one or two that had obviously hit and gone through, and knife scars too. He had a lot of knife scars. Too many. I kissed and tongued the bad ones, licked a long stripe up his neck, nibbled at his chest, and he quivered, gripped me tight.

"See, John? This isn't so bad, is it?" I kissed his cheek, then licked it playfully. He was harder than me, pressing against my abdomen, twitching, but I ignored that part of him and wormed my way down to his hips, nipped at the sharp bones there. He grabbed my hair and jerked me back up, kissed me a little harder but not hard, long and deep, ran his tongue along the seam of my lips. I opened them, let him in, and our tongues fought lazily for a while. He rubbed at my hips, his thumbs pressing in circles, and I wiggled them. A shocked little groan fell from his mouth into mine, and I did it again. He pulled away, and a string of saliva connected our mouths, and I shook my head a little to break it.

"No, it's not bad at all. Would you stretch yourself for me?" he asked softly, his voice no higher than a breathy whisper. I smiled a little, shrugged.

"Only if you get them wet for me," I said, half-joking, a roguish smile on my face. He immediately thrust his head forward and sucked my fingers into his mouth. I gasped a little at the feeling of his tongue caressing the pads of them, pressing into the V between them, and pulled them out probably faster than I should have. I dropped my upper body onto his so my ass would be in the air, improve the angle, and slid a finger inside quickly. I whined, because I was expecting the feeling I'd gotten from John's fingers, but that wasn't what I got. My fingers may not be as thick as his, but they're a lot longer, and it was a weird sensation, something thin reaching in so deeply. I wiggled it, looked around for that place John always hit, and found it with a sharp gasp. I pressed into it gently, half-teasing myself and half-scared it might hurt or be too much if I pressed harder. I got bored with that after a few seconds, though, and shoved another finger in beside the first. I wondered if I'd even be able to stretch myself enough to get him in me, with my skinny fingers. I scissored them as wide as I could, and my spine arched, popped a little, and I gasped. John put a steady, comforting hand on my back, hushed me. I slipped a third finger into myself, but decided I'd use four of mine. That should be the equivalent, or a little more, than three of John's. I hoped, at least.

"You should see your face," John whispered to me.

"Don't own a mirror," I gasped out, as my fingers his that spot again, shuddered inside me, and I clenched around the fingers. I'm good at being counterproductive. He ran his fingers up and down my back, and I could imagine him thinking, 'mine, mine, mine,' and that got me to loosen up again, slide the fourth finger in. It stretched me almost painfully, but I bore with it, held still for a little while, then wiggled them again, and groaned. The motion was stuttering, for a little bit, start-stop-start as I lost control of my limbs for a few seconds at a time, but it made it better somehow, more natural, more human. When I was finally able to pull them in and out smoothly I deemed myself ready and pulled them free and took John's own cock in hand, pressed it against my entrance, and dropped down onto it. We shared a gasp, and I, not feeling up to the slow pace he seemed to want, defied the hands on my hips and bounced harshly up and down on him, shifting so he hit that amazing spot every time, and his face twisted with pleasure as he watched me. I'd never felt like I had so much power over him, honestly, and it felt sort of good. Really good. I came with a high, keening noise, very suddenly, and John wasn't far behind me. I collapsed onto him, didn't bother to pull him out as I drew in breath, and then, of course, I heard a squeak from the corner of the room.

"Za-Lord? You are sporting? I never imagined that you'd be so lovely, during such a human act." I then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning attempting to stop John from squishing Toot, and stopping Toot from pinching my cheeks and far more private, personal areas. I laughed the whole time. John wasn't quite so happy.

* * *

The week passed, and John kept his promise. Amanda moved in with us, became a permanent fixture, drifting laughingly through the house, keeping me company when John or Sam or one of my other friends couldn't. I found out that she was seventeen, and John started calling in a tutor for her. She grew up quickly, and I smiled, because I had begun to see her as something of a daughter, and she still called me mommy half the time. Murphy grew gradually more accepting of John, started coming over more often, and now they had weekly chats about knives and firearms. It was almost funny to watch them, sometimes, as they argued about what weapon was the best. John was a firm supporter of knives, while Murphy had an intense love for her sidearm. They came to blows over that difference sometimes, but that was funny too, because John almost always lost and I ended up having to patch him up.

Michael had us over for dinner once a week, although Charity disapproved at first, but as time passed, it seemed not to bother her any more. She'd even started baking cakes for John! She didn't even do that for my birthday, and I know she didn't forget about it! It's next to impossible to forget my birthday! But I digress. It was always pleasant, watching John distract the other kids while I chatted with the rapidly growing Molly. She'd developed an attachment to me, and had started to tell me things she didn't want to talk to Michael or Charity about, like guys, and asking me, of all people, for advice on wooing them, because hey, apparently if I could get a guy like John, I could get anyone. Or at least according to her. She can be a little silly sometimes. e John', hushed me. I slipped a third finger into me, but deci

I still took cases, despite how pissed that made John sometimes, but I told him that if I was letting him keep his criminal empire, he was letting me keep my business. I did at least try to limit the world-ending, apocalyptic cases I took, but that didn't mean I didn't get thrown into them. Me getting married does not mean the baddies will suddenly decide they don't want my head on a platter, but it does at least mean that I get some permanent back up. Gard and I make a good team, honestly. I still haven't forgiven her for letting me walk in on her and Hendricks making out, though. Hendricks said it's only fair, since he's had to watch me and John in the backseat of the car before. Whatever.

Anyway, all this really amounts to is that life's good right now, at least by my definition of good. I've got a great boyfriend, wonderful friends, amazing food every night, an awesome bed, and I won't lie and tell you the sex is bad. It's not perfect, at all, but like I said, that'd be boring. Hey, though, don't think I don't have free time anymore! If you happen to have a problem from my neck of the woods, like a possessed pet rock, gimme a call. I'm in the book.

* * *

Italian and Mafia-speak translations:

Dolcezza-sweetheart

cucciola mia-my puppy

tesora-treasure

il luogo ideale per coloro che toccano il mio tesora- the place for those who touch my treasure

comare-a mafia term for the boss' mistress

pucchiacha-cunt

va fa napole-literally, go to Naples, but it basically means go to hell

facia bruta-ugly face

babania-heroin or heroin dealer

shylock-loan shark

consigliore-counselor

Harry è mio. Per sempre e per sempre-Harry is mine. Forever and for always.


End file.
